


Milk

by lollercakes



Series: It's All in Your Head [6]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: Anne Shirley thinks it's just a quick hook-up in an airport on her way to her next writing destination. Little does she know that she's actually signed up for more than just a fact-finding with this simple choice.Flimsy story, fluffy time, somewhat explicit content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm being honest, this was just a writing adventure. It's not super well rounded but it reads fun enough so I figured you might enjoy it.

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?” Anne snaps, running her hands over his chest and pulling him closer. His lips break from their place on her neck and he draws back, flashing a cocksure grin at her. 

 

“I could make the same argument for you, Anne-girl,” he breathes. She shakes her head and leans back, putting some space between them. 

 

“Really? Me? You barely even know me,” she responds hotly. It only seems to spur him on and he grabs once more at her chin, his lips crashing into hers and drawing the air from her lungs. They push and pull, fighting to gain the upper hand as their fingers slip buttons loose and slide waistbands down past their hips. 

 

“Can you believe the flight is delayed  _ again _ ?” A voice grinds out, gravelly as though they smoke five packs a day. It makes Anne freeze in her state of undress, her hands gripping Gilbert’s shoulders as he slows his nibble at her neck. “I swear, if we don’t get out of this airport soon I am going to take over an airplane and fly my ass home direct!” 

 

“There’s someone here,” Anne whispers in his ear. He chuckles and nips at her lobe, his hand sliding boldly down her hip. 

 

“I couldn’t tell,” he replies sarcastically, anticipating her slap and grabbing her wrist before it can make contact. “If you do that she’ll definitely hear you. Do you want to get found or do you want to get fucked?” 

 

His words make her skin flush, the red rising from her chest and spreading up to the tips of her ears. Did she want this? Sure, he was good-looking, not married (she’d checked), and generally intelligent, but they were complete strangers in an airport killing time between their connections. 

 

They’d met in the security line when he’d handed her back her dropped earphones, his warm smile and casual conversation easy to fall into as the wait progressed. After they’d cleared the metal detectors he’d hovered to wait for her, falling into step beside her as she headed towards the first bar she could find to pass the time. Since then they’d flirted, had somehow connected with stories of home, and found their hands leaving tentative touches that progressively became bolder. Whose idea it was to stumble into the women’s washroom together she wasn’t quite sure but it had happened and now she was here, poised to decide who she wanted to be. Was she really that kind of person who fucked random men in airports? 

 

“Eh?” He prods as his hands tighten their grip on her sides. She looks up at him and his expression softens, a moment of uncertainty flashing across his features. “It’s okay,” he adds, releasing her and taking a step back. She could swear he just heard her thoughts, his own hesitation blooming over his face as the sink starts to run. 

 

“You  _ know _ I ain’t buying those overpriced drinks - no, I know! I need to…” The voice starts to fade away as the woman leaves, the only sound left in the small stall that of their heavy breaths filling the air. 

 

“I’m sorry, this was completely inappropriate of me,” Gilbert says lowly, dragging his pants up and fighting with closing them over his pronounced bulge. 

 

“She’s gone though,” Anne says after a moment, glancing up at him through her lashes. She takes the leap and hopes, prays, he’s there with her. She was going to do this. She was too riled up not to and the fact that he’d backed off, had given her that moment to think it through, was the true selling point. She had the autonomy and goddamn she was going to take it. “I’m in if you are.” 

 

He stares at her as though he can see right through her, his dark eyes flickering in the low light. If he doesn’t make up his mind soon they were both going to miss their flight. With steady hands she makes the decision and slips her fingers into the waistband of his boxerbriefs, yanking him back towards her. 

 

It only takes him a second to catch up, his hands sliding her panties down her legs as his fingers move to the crux of her legs. Boldly, he runs his fingers along her slit and watches as her eyes light up at his touch. Not one to be left behind, Anne pulls him free of his restraint and nearly groans at the weight of him in her hand. 

 

“Was that a pun?” He rumbles as she moves her hand over his length, rolling on a condom as she draws him closer. His hands mirror hers and he slides a finger inside her, her legs shaking as he spreads her wetness through her folds. 

 

“What - what do you mean?” She replies weakly, skin pebbling with gooseflesh at his touch. He sees the change in her and he grins, trapping her against the wall and lifting her so that she has to wrap her legs around his hips to stop from falling. It’s more erotic than anything she’s ever experienced and her brain shorts out as he chuckles. 

 

“Am I in?” He breathes and in the next second he’s pushing himself inside of her, his thrust making her yelp. 

 

Surprised, turned on, insane, Anne slaps her hand over her mouth at the sound that she emits and groans at the feel of him moving into her. When she’s finally able to breathe again she releases her hand and rests her head on his shoulder, her arms clinging tightly to him as he slowly drives her crazy. Where did this guy even come from? Was this what he did on Tuesday’s? Jesus. 

 

“Tell me what you like,” he instructs as his body thrusts into hers, deeper than most and more steady than any boy she’s bedded since university. How could he string a sentence together when it felt so good? 

 

“This,” she replies lamely, rolling her hips and mewling as his hands grasp tightly at her rear. “That,” she continues and pauses only when he sighs with contentment. 

 

“How about this?” He asks and captures her lips with his, one hand moving to palm her breast and tweak her nipple. She nearly passes out then, her hand reaching out to steady herself with the stall wall. Gilbert only continues his efforts, increasing his pace with a heady grunt. 

 

She can feel herself getting close as his hands work magic, his lips breaking from her own as his breathing starts to turn to pants. With her ankles locked behind his lower back she closes her eyes and tries to get lost in the feel of him sliding in and out of her with a quickened pace. 

 

“I’m almost there,” she hisses into his shoulder. It seems to urge him on, his body stepping infinitely closer until they’re fully connected. Her skin burns as he starts to hammer into her, his hips slapping against hers as he pushes deeper, drives harder. 

 

“You feel so fucking good, Anne-girl,” he gasps and his staccato moves become erratic. Her hands hold tightly to his neck, his back, and she bites into his shoulder as she starts to come undone. “Oh Jesus,” he groans and with a final jolt he finishes inside of her, his whole body taunt as she holds him flush against her. 

 

There’s a moment of silence between them as the intercom overhead sounds out, leaving them to listen to tinny voices and their own heavy breathing as they slowly come down from their frantic coupling. Anne is the first to come back to reality as she slides her legs slowly down to the ground, disentangling herself. 

 

“That was...“ She starts, glancing up at him with a guarded look. He stares back at her with confusion in his gaze before he leans towards her once more and lifts a hand slowly to her chin. Before she puts the pieces together he’s kissing her again, though this time it’s slow, cautious, and oh so much more than she can catalogue in this haze. 

 

“Yes - it was,” he affirms when he eventually pulls away. His hands slowly start to close the buttons of her blouse, his own clothes abandoned as he locks his gaze on her face. 

 

“We should probably get to our gates for our flights - when did you say yours was again?” Anne asks brightly to break the spell, stepping into her pants and leaning down to drag them back up her legs. He follows suit, tucking in his shirt and looking wholly more put together than she did in just a few seconds. 

 

“Nine, I think, I have to check the board again,” he replies and returns to helping her realign herself, his hands brushing her red locks back into her bun. She can’t help but think how bizarre it is that he’s still here and hasn’t just bolted from the stall now that they’d both gotten what they wanted. 

 

“Ah, okay,” she mumbles and abruptly reaches for her bags, her hands quick to turn the lock so that she can stumble out of the stall. “Gil,” she warns as he crashes into her back, the janitor standing with her arms crossed before them. 

 

“Oh!” He gasps, resting his hand on her shoulder quickly. “My wife - she sometimes needs assistance and we couldn’t find the family bathroom.” 

 

“Mhmm,” the woman sighs, nodding her head and dismissing them. They take off at a quick clip, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they stumble down the concourse to hastily get away. 

 

“Hey - wait up,” Gilbert calls as his hand reaches out for hers, drawing her away from the moving walkway and towards a gate posting board. 

 

“My gate is A23 which is like, seven years away by foot,” Anne grumbles, shifting her bag further up on her shoulder. 

 

“Same. Want me to take your bag? I figure some chivalry always goes a long way in getting a callback from an airport hook-up,” he jokes, reaching out for the strap of her bag. She scowls at him and walks away, trying to put distance between them. “Hey - where are you going?” 

 

“To my gate. Thanks for the good time but there won’t be any callbacks. We don’t even live in the same place, isn’t that the beauty of this?” She replies as she continues to walk away, looking back over her shoulder. He stands frozen to the spot, silent and watching as she disappears around a corner and out of sight. 

 

\-------

 

Her plane gets in almost an hour late, the sky dark as she disembarks and heads towards the terminal. Grabbing her bags from the trolley, she beelines for the pickup area to look for her marked ride. She finds it in the corner of the lot, shoving her bags in the trunk before climbing into the backseat.

 

“How long to the camp?” She asks the driver, adjusting the timezone on her watch. 

 

“About an hour. We’re just waiting on one more passenger,” he answers and checks his phone. Anne does the same, sending a quick message home to let Marilla know she’d arrived safely. 

 

“Man, am I glad to see you!” A familiar voice calls through the passenger window. Anne’s head snaps up abruptly as she sees Gilbert-from-the-Airport looking towards the driver with a wide smile on his face. “Let me just put my stuff - “ He freezes as his gaze lands on hers, shock hitting him head on. 

 

Gilbert doesn’t finish his sentence. He puts his gear in the back and then climbs into the backseat beside her, his head swivelling in her direction more than she’d care to admit. What were the fucking chances? What the hell was he doing here? 

 

“Hi there - I’m Doctor Blythe,” he eventually says, reaching out his hand towards her. She takes it slowly, swallowing back her instinctual quips and settling on something a touch more professional. 

 

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. What are you doing here?” With a laugh he rubs his face and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. 

 

“I could ask you the same thing, although I’m pretty sure we both understand what  _ my _ role is here. What’s yours?” She takes the question like an affront and crosses her arms over her chest, shifting away from him slightly. 

 

She knew this was going to be one of the things that became an ongoing point of contention for her. It was rare to get first-hand experience and even harder to get honest stories from returning aid workers. Ever since she’d heard about the ongoing conflict in the country she’d been trying to get an inside look at how international groups were helping the cause. She’d spent months lobbying different organizations, trying to break her way into their ranks so that she could see for herself what was going on and write something that would wake people up to the crisis. Her mission opportunity had come up almost Providentially after a meeting with the NGO she volunteered for and she’d been booked on the next rotation out to the medical site they ran in the displacement camps. Now she was here to see what was happening and report her first pieces back to HQ so that they could work dually on getting a message out. It was just the start but she could feel in her bones that it was the start of something big. 

 

“I’m here working on a book.” Her tone makes him lean his head back, a groan erupting from his chest as he looks towards her. 

 

“Of course you are,” he growls. “It’s just my luck to happen upon the one journalist they bother to send to this thing. I didn’t realize this was your subject area, Anne-girl.” 

 

“Don’t call me that. And what do you even mean by  _ that _ ?” She demands, her cheeks heating with his accusatory tone. 

 

“Why can’t I call you that? I think it’s cute,” he cuts into her thoughts, getting caught up on the nickname and ignoring her counter-question. Typical.

 

Glancing towards him she frowns, reaching up and brushing loose strands of her hair back from her face. “Because. It implies familiarity that we don’t have, Doctor.” Her words bite and he watches her with an intensity that makes her squirm. How had she not noticed that before at the airport? That he could see through her facade?

 

“Okay. I’ll try to refrain. How long are you here for?” He looks away and twists his watch on his wrist distractedly, dropping the familial tone along with the concession. 

 

“Three weeks for now. You?” 

 

“A month. I guess we’ll be getting to know each other better.” She looks at him then and notices the way his smile isn’t as bright, his attention focused elsewhere. 

 

“I guess so,” she replies lowly. The heat from earlier has all but disappeared and left her with a lonely anxiousness, one born from the fear that what was supposed to have been a meaningless connection in a random airport had turned into the longest date she never signed up for. 

 

They spend the remainder of the ride looking out their respective windows, silence heavy in the vehicle until they pull up to the gate of the camp and step out into the cool evening air. She moves slowly around the back of the vehicle trying to give Gilbert more time to collect his things so that she didn’t have to face him but he was one step ahead, already having pulled her kit from the back and settled it on the ground ready for her. 

 

“You don’t have to do that,” she grumbles, grabbing the handle and stalking towards the administration tent. Gilbert follows a distance behind her, keeping silent as they enter the space and receive their sleeping assignments. 

 

After checking in and sorting out their paperwork they head towards the housing tents and split down the different walkways. They’re almost out of sight of one another when Gilbert stops, turning to face her. “Anne,” he says, causing her to pause and look at him.

 

“Yeah Gil?” He smiles, his face lighting up as though it was a personal victory for him that she would say his name like that.

 

“I’m looking forward to building that familiarity. Sleep well.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it even a pun though?

Morning comes too early, the time change harder to process than she’d expected as she pulls on her clothes and checks herself in her tiny handheld mirror. She tried not to be vain, especially out here, but with her vibrant red hair and her endless freckles it was almost impossible not to try to compensate with making sure she at least looked human every morning. 

 

Stumbling out of her tent she makes her way towards the meeting area and settles into a chair around the collection of tables. Other members of the team begin to join her, light pleasantries spoken as they wait for the meeting to get under way. 

 

“Can I sit here?” Gilbert asks over her shoulder, forcing her to look up towards him. He holds two cups of coffee in his hands and she prays one of them is for her, even if it would be like accepting gifts from the enemy. 

 

“I think I could live with that,” she replies lightly, waving her hand towards the chair as he collapses into it. 

 

“Thank God - I’m dying from jetlag - “ 

 

“Good morning everyone.” A woman greets from the head of the table, interrupting him as she gets to her feet. “Let’s get started with the run down for the day and then we’ll do introductions.” They both turn their attention to the woman who introduces herself as Muriel Stacey, Group Leader for the camp operations. 

 

As the meeting wears on, Anne finds herself fading quickly as the content dulls. Leaning against the cool plastic table she rests her chin in her hand, her eyes closing for a little bit longer with every blink. 

 

“Hey,” Gilbert whispers, nudging her elbow and causing her to shift and almost fall face first into the table. She snaps up and shoots him a weary look, rolling her eyes at him. He only shifts the coffee cup on the table towards her, nodding for her to take it. 

 

Without hesitation she reaches for the mug, grasping it in her hands she lifts it to her lips and takes a few gulps, wincing at the harsh flavour of the black liquid. Though she’s desperate for the caffeine it’s almost not worth it and she sticks out her tongue, setting the cup down gently as Gilbert snorts from behind her. 

 

“Now - I see two new faces here. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?” Muriel instructs, drawing their attention away from the poisonous coffee and back to the meeting at hand. 

 

“I’ll go first,” Gilbert interjects, leaning forward and looking around the table. “I’m Gilbert Blythe. I’m here as the replacement GP for the next month. This is my sixth deployment and so far it’s been the best one yet.” 

 

Anne has to force herself not to scoff aloud as the group chuckles, choosing instead to pick at her nails as he continues to be too charming and delightful for someone who had just described themselves as dying from jetlag. 

 

“And this is Anne,” he adds, motioning to her as his hands settle on the table before him. 

 

“Yes - I’m Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Anne with an ‘e’, if you please. I can be quite particular about that. I’m here working on a book and I’m hoping to get to know you all a bit better to understand what your roles here are. There won’t be any identifying components - this is just the research stage so don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me. I’m going to be kind of a fly on the wall and you should know I don’t bite so don’t be afraid to come to me with any questions you may have,” she finishes and when she spares a glance towards Gilbert her cheeks flush as his hand rubs the spot on his shoulder where she distinctly remembered biting him not a full day ago. 

 

This mission was going to be impossible, that she was growing more surprisingly sure of with every minute. 

 

* * *

 

“Okay. I’ve got it. Let me know how that goes,” Anne replies to one of the ward nurses who was being particularly difficult to work with. She tried her best to keep the contempt out of her tone as she wrapped up the interview.  

 

Stepping out of the ward and back into the open air she forces herself to breathe, consciously drawing her shoulders down from around her ears and relaxing the muscles in her back. The cot she slept on wasn’t bad, per se, but her body had seen better days than the conditions of this mission. 

 

“Are you off to get lunch?” Gilbert greets, breaking into her thoughts as she opens her eyes to catch him staring. She debates for a second just turning on her heel and walking away, putting distance between them in the way she’s carefully been doing since that first meeting but it would be too obvious now and she had no excuse. 

 

“I’m not really hungry,” she replies instead, turning her attention down to the notes she’d scribbled out this morning. 

 

“Come now, you have to be. Break was like, two hours ago and you’ve been at it since seven this morning,” he presses, taking a step towards her and trying to guide her towards the kitchen tent without touching her. She groans and stumbles along beside him, stuck now that he’d cornered her. “What do you want? I was just going to grab a sandwich - you want one?” 

 

He pulls out a chair for her and continues heading towards the kitchenette as she rubs sanitizer in her hands. She hadn’t touched anyone this morning - she made sure of it - but it was never bad to be a bit paranoid, especially in close living conditions like these. 

 

“I’m actually not hungry,” she calls out to him as he sets two plates on the counter. He looks over at her then, a frown on his face as he gauges her for a moment. 

 

“I’m going to make you one anyways. Your colouring is a bit off,” he replies and spends a moment washing his hands before he steadily starts grabbing items from the pantry.

 

“My colouring is always off. Comes with the ginger territory,” she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest at the observation. Her colouring was  _ not _ off - she was fine. It was all in his head.

 

It only takes him a few minutes to pull together two large sandwiches and cups of tea, setting them down on the table with a flourish before he falls into the seat beside her. “Fine - have it your way. It’s turkey and cheese,” he pauses, lifting the sandwich to his lips and taking a big bite. 

 

“Thank you,” she sighs and reluctantly takes a bite. It tastes good, she will admit, but despite the good taste her stomach still rumbles as her body flushes, a cold sweat coating her palms as she chews. Convinced it’s all in her head she changes tactics and sips the tea, smiling at the bit of honey he’s mixed in. She’s midway through the cup when the wave of nausea hits her, stilling her movements as she tries to talk herself down from the nerves that spark at the denial. 

 

“How’s it been going in the ward? Got any surprising insights into the daily lives of nurses on mission?” He asks in between bites, shifting in his seat restlessly as she shrugs in reply. She tries to rely on mind over matter, setting the sandwich down and breathing deeply for a moment as she stares at her plate. “Anne, you sure you’re okay?” His voice wobbles in and out in her head, reverberating as she feels herself turn weightless. 

 

She blinks and when she wakes she’s horizontal, her head in someone’s hands as people buzz around her. “Anne, hey,” Gilbert whispers, brushing her hair back from her brow as he looks down at her. It’s  _ his _ lap she’s laying in,  _ great _ . “You passed out - what feels off?” 

 

She mouths a response, her throat dry and silent as she closes her eyes to stop the spinning in her vision. Her head hurts and her stomach - oh God, her stomach. She could feel the bile rising faster than she could react and though she twists herself to the side there was no escaping the embarrassment of puking across Gilbert’s knee. 

 

“Well, that makes it pretty clear,” he laughs, a hand steadily holding her hair back as the other rubs soothing circles across her back. “Let’s get you closer to the washrooms, just in case,” he adds, setting her down gently on the ground before getting to his feet and reaching towards her. 

 

She thinks for a hot second that she can get up on her own, swatting at his outstretched palms and then attempting to roll to her knees. When all she does instead is simply crash back into the gravel, she knows she’s done for and doesn’t resist when those too large hands of his wrap around her waist and pull her to standing without any effort. 

 

“If you didn’t want to eat the turkey, you could have just told me. There was salami and - “ 

 

“Stop,” she interrupts, groaning as the mention of food makes her stomach roll again. He chuckles and holds her arm around his neck as she pauses to put her head between her knees for a moment. When she’s ready again they move closer to the washroom area and he sets her down in the makeshift shower on one of the cool plastic chairs. 

 

“Diana has gone to get you a couple of buckets,” he says softly, crouching down before her and watching as her head leans heavily against the side of the shower stall. Diana… Dear sweet Diana. One of the only people in this godforsaken place that actually treated her like a person. She was a kindred spirit, she had to be. “Is it just an upset stomach or are you in pain anywhere?” Gilbert prods, taking the liberty of running his hands along her limbs and checking for any signs of injury. 

 

“Just my stomach, I think. It just hit me like a wave,” she breathes, closing her eyes and relaxing into the feel of his hands checking her pulse. He feels too good, his breath hot on her neck as he listens through his stethoscope. 

 

“That’s good - I mean, not good, obviously, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else going on. Probably just a case of Delhi belly from the food,” he quips as his fingers check her glands and trace over her cheeks. She doesn’t remember  _ that _ soft contact ever being a part of a medical checkup before and when she opens her eyes to look at him she catches him staring, concern evident in his features. 

 

“Gil,” she groans, lifting her hand weakly to press at his chest. He misreads the situation and leans closer, her panic cresting as she rallies her strength and pushes him away just in time to expel more bile into the floor of the shower. 

 

“Oh Anne-girl,” he sighs, attempting to keep her upright as her body shakes with each release. 

 

“Just let me die here,” she moans eventually, closing her eyes and forcing herself to breathe. She was going to die here, from embarrassment, if she didn’t start to pull herself together. 

 

“Sorry, can’t do that. Already attached - “ 

 

“I’ve got it!” Diana bursts into the small space, her voice echoing off the walls and rattling in Anne’s head. “Anne - you’re a right mess,” she sighs, pushing Gilbert out of the way and setting the bucket on the ground at Anne’s feet. “Gilbert, go get changed and bring a spare set of scrubs back for her. She’s going to have a quick little shower and then we’re going to set her up in the isolation tent, aren’t we Anne?” 

 

In another moment she’s stripped of her shirt and pants and the shower is turned on overhead, the hot water sprinkling down on her and washing away the mess she’d made. She doesn’t know quite how she gets cleaned and re-dressed but when she comes back around she finds herself tucked into a comfortable cot, her clothing replaced with scrubs and a small light in the corner to keep her company. 

 

* * *

 

She spends the next day in the tent, staff from the hospital coming to check on her throughout their shifts and bringing her water and rehydration salts whenever they can. Gilbert, of course, hovers around the door of the tent longer than reasonable and she half thinks he’s pulled a chair up to keep her company, his stories from the outside world giving her comfort as she works through her illness. 

 

When eventually she’s recovered enough to stand on her own two feet she spends the afternoon sanitizing the space and tidying it before returning to her own tent to rest for the night. She’s woken sometime later by her name being called, distress evident as the zipper on her tent opens abruptly and bodies crowd into her tiny space. 

 

Laying in her bra and underwear, Anne looks up at them with a scowl, questioning without saying a word. Diana is the first one to speak, apologetic as she looks away from her. “We didn’t mean to barge in but we were worried - you weren’t answering your text messages and didn’t respond when we were calling your name!” 

 

“I was asleep, obviously,” Anne groans, reaching for her discarded sheet as she sits up to face them. Gilbert’s gaze never leaves hers, his tall frame almost imposing in the small space of her tent. 

 

“Well, we’re glad your not dead. I know you’re probably not interested, but it’s Ruby’s birthday today and the chef has - “ 

 

“No,” she interjects, holding up her hand as Diana opens the door to discussions about food. She never wanted to see or eat anything ever again. “Don’t talk to me about it. Don’t even think about it. Not right now.” 

 

“But there will be  _ cake _ , Anne!” Diana pleads, kneeling beside her bed and grasping Anne’s hand tightly in her own. “Can’t you rouse yourself for an hour? Gilbert, tell her she needs to join us. She seems to listen to you.” 

 

Anne scoffs at that, looking between the two of them suspiciously. Was something more going on here? God, was that jealousy stirring in her chest? 

 

“She doesn’t listen to me any more than anyone else, Di,” Gilbert responds, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues to watch her. Anne lifts a brow at him, questioning without words what was going on between him and Diana with her little nickname. God, she  _ was _ jealous. Lord Jesus she needed saving. 

 

“Will you leave me alone if I come for the song and then leave again? I really am fucking exhausted,” Anne gives in, reluctantly sliding her feet to the floor and moving to stand slowly. Diana bounces up and claps her hands, reaching towards Gilbert’s shoulders excitedly before bounding out of the tent. Anne half expects Gilbert to follow her but his feet stay planted as he watches her dig through her kit for clothes. “What are you still doing here?” Anne quips as she distractedly pulls loose a t-shirt and pants. 

 

“I…” He starts, stops, pulls his hands from his pockets and raises them before willfully stuffing them back in. 

 

“Yeah? Thank you for that enlightening story,” Anne grumbles as she fights to clasp the button on her pants. She can tell she’s beyond tired, her body aching after 24 hours of inner chaos, and it makes her punchy, especially as this man hovers in the doorway of her tent with eyes that see her too clearly, even in the low light. 

  
“Anne,” he mumbles as she reaches up to pull her hair back, turning away from him to feel less exposed. 

 

“Why are you still here, Gil?” She rasps, twisting the hair tie around her mess of red and then bending to grab her t-shirt from the floor. When she stands back up she can feel the heat of him behind her, her movements stilling as his fingers graze along her spine and send shivers straight to her core. Glancing up over her shoulder she catches sight of him, the shadows over his face deepening the desire she sees clearly reflected there. 

 

Nope. She couldn’t do this. Not today. 

 

Stepping forward to put some much needed space between them Anne yanks her t-shirt over her head and sets her hands on her hips, facing him head on to show him that she wouldn’t relent. “Aren’t you disgusted by me yet? I literally puked all over you twice. Isn’t that a sign?” She lashes out, stepping past him and into the cool evening air. 

 

Anne doesn’t wait for him to join her outside of the tent and instead heads towards the dining area with a quick step and an intent to put as much distance between herself and Gilbert as she could manage. Determined, she grabs a bottle of water and a rehydration package and sits down between Diana and Muriel with a forced smile on her lips, her gaze barely looking up when Gilbert eventually joins the table. 

 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, her sleep deprivation and lack of energy quickly catching up to her as the cake is set before them with an arrangement of candles. Once Ruby has done her part and blown the flickering flames out Anne excuses herself, disappearing to wash up for the evening and tuck herself into bed markedly  _ alone _ . 


	3. Chapter 3

The week passes and Anne barely notices, her stay extended on instruction from her team back home who heard about her illness and the inevitable delays it had caused. Now the days were blurring together as she focused on her work and tried to catch up with what she’d missed. She’s thankful to realize when she returns to the ward a few days later that the nurses have taken pity on her and now answer her questions without much negotiation. 

 

Racing to catch up, she tries to ensure she sits down for at least one meal a day, her usual requirement when she was on mission and trying to tackle the amount of work she needed to accomplish in a short amount of time. But this mission was harder - her bout of stomach sickness turned her off the of the dining area and she wasn’t particularly hungry when the weather warmed every afternoon, her body now almost solely relying on Powerbars and rehydration packs. 

 

“Anne, I’ve got some toast here if you want it,” Gilbert calls to her one morning, leaning forward and watching as she opens the fridge to stare into it. It was her usual morning routine - a pang of hunger would hit right after the morning meeting and she’d wander into the kitchenette, stare at the food, and then proceed to go to work without eating anything. He’d watched it happen for a few days now, curious as she seemed to be reluctant to settle on eating anything at all. 

 

“Thanks, but I’m good,” she replies quickly and closes the fridge door, turning to head towards the clinic area without grabbing so much as a bottle of water. Rolling his eyes, he gets to his feet and grabs the toast from his plate, chasing after her down the pathway and easily catching up to walk alongside her. 

 

“Here,” he offers, holding the lightly buttered bread out towards her. She glances up at him briefly and then looks away, taking the crust between her fingers and holding it at her side as they walk. “You should probably eat it before you go into the patient care area, you know, to try to prevent getting sick again.” 

 

Her grey eyes snap up to his, a scowl on her features as she slows her step. Defiantly she takes a bite and then holds the bread back out to him. “Happy?” She says around the food in her mouth. His grin widens and he grabs her hand, placing the bread back at her lips. 

 

“Eat the whole thing,” he challenges her, stopping them both before they cross through the makeshift gate of the clinic. The look he wears on his face is knowing, his eyes gentle as he watches her take a few bites and swallow it back. “You’re not eating, are you?” 

 

“I  _ am _ eating,” she growls in return, waving the bread in his face as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

 

“No, you’re not. I eat in a day what you’ve eaten since you got here - “

 

“I was sick!” She interjects to his consternation, his eyes rolling as she argues back. 

 

“You’re starting to look like shit, Anne,” he groans, lifting his hands animatedly as she looks taken aback. “You’ve got bags under your eyes and you’re bitchy to everyone here. I haven’t known you that long and even I can see you’ve dropped a couple pounds without even trying. You’ve gotta eat on mission, it’s a marathon, not a sprint.” 

 

She takes in his commentary with a stoic look on her face, her mouth chewing the bread more than necessary to keep her tongue from lashing out at him the way she wants to in that moment. “Well, that’s kind of a rude way to put it, but thank you for the observation. I appreciate your concern,” she replies evenly and shoves the remaining bites of toast into her mouth before leaving him to stand at the gate and watch her walk away. 

 

Frustrated, Anne loses him among the tents and begins interviewing the intake team, eventually breaking for lunch when they do and heading towards the kitchen. She spots Gilbert already there preparing a sandwich, his eyes watching her as she grabs a bottle of water and comes to sit at the tables with the team. 

 

“You see, the challenge isn’t coming here, it’s when you go back home and trying to explain your experience,” Jerry laments, diving into his cup of soup with a flourish. Anne leans back in her chair and spins the water bottle in her hands, listening to the team debate her questions.

 

“How’s everyone’s day going?” Gilbert breaks in, sliding into a chair beside her and setting a plate down in front of her. Toast and a banana, the familiar BRAT diet items making her glare at him as he focuses on the conversation he’s just invited himself into. Reluctantly she picks up the toast and eats it, knowing that if she didn’t the damn man would follow her throughout the day until she finished it. 

 

“Blythe, are you in to watch the football match tonight?” Ruby asks as the conversation lulls, her hand lifting to Gilbert’s shoulder as she looks up at him innocently. Anne does her best to look unaffected, turning her attention to peeling the banana and looking anywhere but at the two people beside her. The small pang of jealousy that lights in her gut again makes her squirm, getting to her feet abruptly and walking off towards the camp entrance and leaving the kitchen behind. 

 

The security at the gate warns her back from the street and she relents, choosing instead to lean against the fence and watch the chaotic traffic pass for the rest of the lunch period. When the break is over she returns to patient intake and refocuses on their work. 

 

By early evening she’s exhausted and she grabs her e-reader from her gear and tucks herself away in one of the corners of the camp, settling in to relax with a cheesy murder mystery against the bright orange fencing. Time slips by and soon the light is too low to keep reading and she finds herself wandering the site. In the distance she can hear the group settling in the dining area, their dinner being served to boisterous laughter. Part of her wishes she were there, involved in the group and the jokes, but another part of her felt like she was imposing, like her role here wasn’t as necessary as the others and she was just here to make their jobs harder. 

 

Reluctantly, Anne turned to head back to her tent, ready to turn in for the night and recharge to face tomorrow as a new day. 

 

“Going to bed already?” Diana calls to her, jogging to her side and linking their arms together as they walk. 

 

“Was thinking about it. I’m beat,” she lies, shrugging as the girl practically skips alongside her. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to bed, I won’t allow it. Come have dinner and watch the football game with us. It’s the final, so apparently that’s a big deal,” she rambles, pulling them off course and leading Anne towards the dining area. 

 

“I’m not super hungry though,” Anne protests, clutching her e-reader tighter in her hand as they near the dining area. She couldn’t quite put a finger on why she was so nervous to join the group until she walked in and found Ruby covering Gilbert’s eyes, a wide smile on her face as Jane spooned something off of his plate and into his mouth. 

 

“That is most definitely creamed corn,” he shouts, pulling away Ruby’s hands and looking down at his plate. “See - I’ve got this in the bag!” He continues loudly, his smile widening as his eyes fall on Diana and Anne entering the dining area. 

 

“They play this every night. Gilbert is notoriously bad at identifying food correctly,” Diana explains as she grabs two platefuls of food and steers them towards the table. They watch as Ruby moves along the table, her hands covering everyone’s eyes eventually as Jane spoons surprise items into everyone’s mouths. More often than not the group dissolves into laughter, the guesses so poor that even Anne finds her mood lightening as the evening progresses. She even manages to stomach almost a quarter of the plate, though in the end she still drinks more water than necessary to fill her up. 

 

“I’m going to setup the stream for the game,” Gilbert says over her shoulder as she washes her plate. She glances back at him, her brow furrowed. “If you wanted to help me?” 

 

“Oh,” she replies, setting her items down to dry and turning around to face him more fully. Behind him Diana is talking with Ruby and Jane, still seated at the table and working through their dessert. “I wasn’t really - “

 

“Come on, I can’t do this on my own. I need someone smarter than me,” he says as his hands make quick work of cleaning his own dishes. Bumping his arm affectionately into hers, he shoots her a charming smile that disarms her and leaves her fumbling for words. 

 

Her, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, lost for words. What are the chances. 

 

“Fine. But only because I think it’ll be entertainment of the purest variety,” she concedes and follows him back towards the meager ‘lounge’ area they’ve setup with a collection of plastic chairs and a white tent wall pulled tight in front of a projector. 

 

Gilbert sets to work immediately, grabbing the laptop from the tech box and turning on the device. When the light doesn’t immediately appear on screen he scrunches his face, tapping the keys to login and hopefully wait it out. Anne watches with a raised brow, her hands on her hips as he mumbles to himself and tries pressing the power button on and off again. 

 

“What the devil?” He growls, tapping the machine and trying to bring it to life with a few light pats. Eventually Anne can’t contain her laughter anymore and she walks to the corner, picking up the extension cord and making a show of plugging it into the hanging powerstrip. “Well, don’t I look foolish,” he groans, turning his attention back to the computer and searching for the pre-show. 

 

“I couldn’t watch you start to fall apart over a projector not working,” she chides, coming to sit next to him as he logs into his home desktop. She tries not to notice the conversations that pop up on his screen, the smiling faces beaming out at her as greetings start rolling in. One in particular appears multiple times, her face bright in each flash of her message and Anne feels a light pang of jealousy re-appear in her gut. 

 

This had to  _ stop _ already before she lost her damn mind. Getting to her feet abruptly she wandered the edges of the tent, looking over the DVD cases and used books that lined the shelves. A well-loved copy of  _ Jane Eyre _ catches her eye and she grabs it, flipping to the chapter that had been torn out of her first copy in a spate of anger by girls in the group home she’d lived in before moving to the Cuthbert’s. Her heart soars as she reads through the familiar pages, tears pricking at her eyes as she recalls the misery she’d felt when they’d burned her copy in the yard. 

 

“Anne?” Gilbert repeats, moving to join her near the shelf before resting his hand on her shoulder. She jumps under the contact and drops the book to the ground, snapping her gaze up to him in surprise. Without prompting he removes his hand and reaches down to grab the book, turning it over before glancing up towards her. “ _ Jane Eyre _ ? I didn’t pit you for a Brontë reader,” he says kindly, offering it back to her. 

 

“What does that mean?” She asks sharply, holding the book to her chest. 

 

“Just - I guess, I don’t really know. You seem... “ He pauses, as though weighing his words before he speaks them. “You don’t seem like a romance kind of girl, I guess.” 

 

“Just because I fucked a stranger  _ once _ in an airport doesn’t mean I don’t like romance, Gil,” she growls before stalking out of the lounge and towards her tent. The tears come hotly to her eyes, the insult adding to her tumultuous memories as she tries desperately not to start crying. 

 

“Anne - come on,” Gilbert calls, jogging to catch her and grasping at her arm. “That’s obviously not what I meant.” She shakes him loose and spins on her heel, her finger poking sharply into his chest. 

 

“Don’t! Don’t play with me, Doctor Blythe. You keep looking at me like  _ that _ and saying these things but I’m not blind. I see everything else going on around us and I don’t have time to play games!” She seethes, a tear slipping out and causing her to groan with frustration at the weight of it all. 

 

“I’m not playing any games, Anne,” he counters measuredly, though his tone softens with the frailty he sees in her expression. 

 

“I asked you at the airport if you were with anyone and you said no, did you not?” She presses, glancing around them to ensure no one would hear her pathetic accusations. She really should have covered more than just glib wit and impersonal stories back at the airport, maybe then she wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe he would have already moved on from her red-headed orphan self. 

 

“I did. I’m not,” he replies and crosses his arms over his chest, unwilling to give into whatever was going through her head. 

 

“Then who is Mary? Why does she call you ‘love’ and send you a million messages while you’re away?” Gilbert barks out a laugh as she continues, her anger thwarted by his quick change in demeanor. 

 

“Mary? Really? She’s like my mother! That’s why she sends me a barrage of messages when I log on. She’s worried sick about me coming out here ‘cause she thinks I’ll get killed or get hit by a bus or something. I wasn’t lying, Anne,” he whispers the last part, his knuckle brushing softly against her cheek and catching the wayward tear. “Come back and watch the game. Relax. Have some snacks and you’ll start to feel better. I promise.” 

 

She closes her eyes at the ridiculousness of her thoughts, her mind going haywire as he reaches towards her. “I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions. It’s just - that book means a lot to me. It was one of the things that got me through my years at the group home - “ 

 

“Group home?” He interjects, squeezing her hand as she looks away briefly. 

 

“My parents died when I was just a baby. I bounced around a lot until the Cuthbert’s took me in. It was a shitty way to grow up.” 

 

“We’ve got that in common then,” Gilbert says softly, watching as the admission comes over her. She shifts and wipes at her eyes before looking back up to him.

 

“What do you mean?” She prods and he smiles sadly before looking away and rubbing his chin. 

 

“My mother died giving birth to me and my father died of lung cancer when I was a teenager. We’re both orphaned.” 

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Gil,” she murmurs, shifting on her feet as he looks down at her. She hadn’t expected that, not from the way he’d seemed so confident and carefree. Her perceptions, so frequently spot on, were failing her now and it left her feeling off-kilter. 

 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he replies and shrugs. 

 

“I don’t mean to be like this. I’m just stressed and exhausted and for some reason I feel too much around you and it’s just fucking - ugh!” He chuckles as she groans, his hands holding tightly to hers. 

 

“Watch the game with me. Take a break from the work and just try to decompress. It’ll help and maybe you won’t get so caught up up here,” he says and grazes his hand along her temple. With a brief nod of her head she follows him back to the lounge and settles herself at a table to start flipping through the pages of the book as he finishes setting up. 

 

“Hey Anne,” he calls and she looks up, meeting his eyes across the space and smiling as he grins towards her. “Check out these photos,” he requests and opens his Facebook to an album labelled ‘family’. Inside it are hoards of pictures, Gilbert and a man and woman when they were all younger, the couple grouped together as Gilbert wears graduation robes. “This is Bash and Mary. They billeted me through university when I was having a hard time making ends meet. They pretty much adopted me after my father died.” 

 

Anne watches the photos pass and finds herself getting up from her seat, sliding onto the small plastic chair next to him as he tells her about his parents and the life he’d lived. At some point her hand finds its way to his, their fingers weaving together as he laughs and jokes about the last decade of his life and the scrapes he’d managed to get himself in and out of. Eventually she tells him about her years in the system, what coming to live with Matthew and Marilla had meant to her, how Matthew’s death had driven her to write her first book. Throughout the time they find themselves on even ground, an understanding blooming between them as they recount the hard and the good times. 

 

“I’m not playing games, Anne,” he whispers as the slideshow loops again, his gaze turning towards her and locking his focus. “There is some weird connection here between us that I’ve never had before and I have no idea what I’m going to do when I leave in a few weeks and you don’t come with me.” 

 

Swallowing thickly she twists under his stare, her own heart thumping heavily in her chest as she tries to think of something - anything! - to say. 

 

“I thought we were watching football not sharing baby pictures!” Billy grumbles as the team starts wandering into the lounge. Anne is the first to pull back, getting to her feet and taking some of the snacks that Diana is juggling from her hands under the guise of being helpful. 

 

“We are, we are!” Gilbert responds loudly, turning back to the laptop and toggling the screen back to the pre-game show that he’s connected to. “I’ve got it all set to go, see?” 

 

“What about the sound, bud?” Billy continues, tossing a piece of popcorn at the back of Gilbert’s head. 

 

“I just have to plug it in,” Anne replies for him, carrying over the speakers from the shelf and setting them on the table as Gilbert takes the cord and plugs it into the computer. Before she can wander away once more he grasps at her pant leg, his gaze shooting up to hers with a tentative smile. She gets the message and sits in the seat nearest him, motioning for Diana to come join her on the other side as he hides his blinding smile against his chest. The sound of the crowd bursts through the speakers and the team cheers, settling into their seats with their hidden beverages to enjoy the game. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you at the start, somewhat flimsy story, some explicit content.... ;)

“Are you sure you’re up for this today?” Gilbert quips, Anne trailing behind him with her notebook as they head towards the intake area. Though she’d tried to put it off to be the last stop on her pass, today was the day she had to shadow Gilbert and the out-patient team. 

 

And after their exchange yesterday, before and during the game, she didn’t feel quite like she was able to be the neutral observer she was paid to be. Already this morning as he gifted her a sweetened oatmeal she found herself smiling at him, reaching out and grazing her fingers against him as much as he did her. If she were an outside party she would probably feel nauseous at the quiet affection they shared, hidden beneath a layer of protectiveness at keeping the team in the dark about their behaviour. 

 

“I’m sure. I’m totally over that hangry stage by now,” she jokes as they step into the treatment area. Gilbert flashes her a wide smile as he holds the tent flap open for her, leading her over to her seat and then looking around him quickly. 

 

“Okay - I would like to ask you, because I know telling you won’t be sufficient, to stay on that stool unless I need you to move. Can you do that?” He asks abruptly, pulling on his medical coat and looking over at her. 

 

“Why? It’s not like I’m going to come over and try to treat your patient for you,” she chides, easing onto the stool as he rolls his eyes. 

 

“Of course not. It’s more because I need to focus and with you hovering near me that will be a particular challenge and - “ 

 

“Good morning!” Pasha greets, the local staff member stepping into the tent and looking between them. “Welcome Anne to our little piece of heaven!” Anne smiles back at the man, nodding as he claps his hands together excitedly. “Doctor Blythe - shall we get started? I hear there’s a lineup.” 

 

The morning passes quickly, patient after patient coming through the tent and being released or moved into the waiting ward beds for further care. All the while Anne watches and takes notes, commenting in between cases on little things that Gilbert and Pasha observe and trying to better understand the process. When lunch rolls around they take a break and wander towards the kitchen, discussing the patients and trying to troubleshoot some of the maladies that have presented already today. 

 

“What do you think so far?” Gilbert asks Anne as he settles in to eat his lunch of rice and chicken. Beside him Anne nibbles at a Powerbar, much to his consternation. 

 

“I think it’s interesting - it’s very different from how it is back home,” she offers and glances up towards him. 

 

“So when do I get to read the notes?” He questions, setting down his fork. With a lightning fast move he grabs the remaining Powerbar from her hand and slides his plate towards her, tsking as she reaches for the processed food. “Have some of this. It’s good and I promise you won’t get sick from it.” 

 

Glaring at him Anne lifts the fork to her mouth and works her way through the remainder of the dish, cursing him for actually being useful in the kitchen and not letting her get away with the trashcan raccoon diet she was trying to cling to on mission. 

 

“Not for a while yet. It’s just notes and mostly scribbles right now but I’ll try to go easy on you in the final version,” she adds with a grin before getting up and washing the dish in the sink. He comes to join her, despite not having dishes of his own, and rests his hand on the small of her back for a moment. It’s only a brief touch but it snakes up her spine and makes her skin flush brighter in the permeating heat of the day. 

 

“You wanna hangout tonight? After dinner?” He asks lowly, glancing down at her. She shifts on her feet, uncertain of what he’s actually asking but knowing she would agree, regardless of whatever he was implying. 

 

“Your tent or mine?” She breathes in response and he stills beside her, his brows lifting in silent surprise.  _ Oh, so that wasn’t what he meant _ . 

 

“Well, I - “ 

 

“Gilbert, we’re having a rousing game of Monopoly tonight. You in?” Ruby calls across the kitchen as she heads passes by heading towards the smoking area. 

 

“I’ll have to take a raincheck,” he replies to Ruby distractedly, his eyes never leaving Anne’s. She stares back up at him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her heart races in her chest. He had that same look on his face that he did at the airport, the searching one she hadn’t been able to pinpoint, and it makes her step back and put some distance between them. 

 

“We should get back.” She states and is relieved to see his nod, an unspoken agreement to think about her proposition hanging between them for the rest of the afternoon. 

 

* * *

 

“So, I guess we both know what you were thinking,” he mentions later as they walk together around the camp perimeter, a suggestion to burn off some of the energy of the day from being cooped up in their treatment area. His hand rests on her lower back as they move and she tries to ignore the burst of want that spills from her core at his touch. 

 

“Probably the least subtle moment in my life, if I’m being honest,” Anne replies shakily, glancing towards him and then looking at the ground again. He chuckles, tugging at the back of her shirt and bringing her to a stop beside him. 

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says after a moment, shifting on his feet as his fingers hold tightly to her thin cotton blouse. “It’s just that I kinda want to actually get to know you and not just do the other thing,” he adds sheepishly. 

 

She lets his words hang in the air between them, heavy in their nature, as she tries to figure out how to respond. She wanted both. Why couldn’t they have both? 

 

“I can sense a million thoughts happening in that head of yours,” he prods after a drawn out moment, crowding more fully into her space and trapping her against a shed wall. She looks up at him and lifts her hands gently to his chin. 

 

“Why can’t we multitask? I know you’re good at - ” She whispers and then is cut off by his lips, his whole body pressing hers into the wall. Her hands struggle to settle on just one part of him, tracing over his hips and his back and pulling him closer until she can barely breathe with the feel of him. 

 

“Mmm, Anne-girl,” he moans and stills, his thumbs on her jaw and holding her back from him as he breathes heavily. “I can’t even barely think when you’re around, let alone multitask.” 

 

“Then let’s get it out of the way and we can focus,” she counters, her own eyes closing as she groans pathetically. “God, don’t judge me for sounding like all I want is your dick.” His resulting sputter makes her laugh in return, her palm coming up to cover her face as she tries to hide in front of him. He only eases her hands away, settling a kiss upon her forehead before leading her away from the shed.

 

She follows him without question, his weaving path creating more confusion than she expected as he leads them towards the lounge and then turns abruptly to the left. 

 

“Gil, where are you going?” She asks lowly, trying to catch up to him as he moves past the admin tents. In the distance she can hear the team playing their games and making a ruckus of it, their laughter filtering out through the thin structures as he turns once more. 

 

Understanding blooms in her chest as they near the back of his tent, the full circle they’d done around the space making it obvious. 

 

“Did you seriously just do a perimeter check?” She breathes as he reaches for the zipper of his tent. He lifts the flap and motions her into the space, her eyes opening wide in surprise at the amount of room he has. 

 

He’d taken down the inner canvas and hung up his bug net, the tent widening almost three feet and brightening considerably with the change. Of  _ course _ he would improve where he was going to spend a month, he wasn’t a fish out of water here like she was. He belonged in this environment and she was just visiting. Kicking herself, she shoved the imposterous thoughts down and turned her attention back to him. 

 

“I definitely did do a perimeter check because what I want to do to you requires that nobody be around to listen to us,” he responds brightly, joining her in the enclosed space. “I should also mention that I, uh, have a clean bill of health in all ways - I was tested most recently before I deployed and it came up clear.” 

 

Her throat tightens as she glances up at him, her mind trying to find the right words. “I haven’t - not lately, but last time, I was clear too. It’s been awhile but unless there’s witchcraft at play I’m still okay and I’ve got that whole cyborg thing happening - “ 

 

“Cyborg thing?” He prods, his smile widening as he steps closer to her. 

 

“It’s - I’ve got an IUD, so that’s taken care of too,” she adds and tries to distract herself by looking at his things. 

 

“Then we’re all covered. I can still use condoms, if you prefer,” he murmurs as he stands behind her, the memory of him doing the same thing after her illness flashing brightly in her mind. All awkwardness about the conversation disappears as she shakes her head, glancing up at him and giving him her trust with just a look.

 

Without a word she gives in to his staged scene, lifting the corners of her shirt and pulling it over her head so that she’s standing in front of him clad only in her pants and her sports bra. The heat of him surrounding her makes the gooseflesh rise on her skin. 

 

“Anne,” he sighs, a finger trailing up her spine and causing a sound to slip from her throat. His exhale chases the loose hairs from her neck and she shivers as his lips graze the top of her spine. 

 

Standing frozen to the spot, Anne nearly comes out of her skin as he trails his lips along each nub of her spine, his fingers settling on the waistband of her pants and slowly easing them over her hips. She forces an exhale from her chest as he rises up and holds her close to his chest, his arms wrapping around her as a hand tilts her chin up towards him. His kiss makes her stumble, her mind losing all sense as she turns into him and pulls at his scrubs until he’s leaning over her clad only in his boxerbriefs, his hair askew and his lips turned up in a knowing smile. 

 

He had an effect on her, she knew it, he knew it, and there was no going back. 

 

In the next moment he’s reaching for her, steering her back towards his cot as his mouth moves from her ear to her collar. Her hands busy themselves by pushing his underwear to the floor, his length pressing firmly into her stomach as her hands squeeze playfully at his rear. 

 

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs in between nips, his own fingers finding their way under her bra and pulling it forcefully over her head. As it comes loose she feels her hair go with it, the bun no longer holding up and the red locks falling down her back and causing him to exhale a shaky breath. “Jesus, you’re a sight.” 

 

Smiling at that she eases herself onto the edge of the cot and presses her palm into his stomach, urging him to stay standing as her tongue darts out against his member. He nearly crumples over at the feel of her mouth closing over him, his hands slapping out at the storage unit and holding on to keep himself upright. 

 

“Oh fuck,” he hisses as her hands join in the ministrations, dragging the groan from him and revelling in the way his thighs shake at her touch. “I need - I need - “ He repeats and she stills, looking up at him with her lips at the edge of his length. 

 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, his mouth finding hers in a demanding kiss that he uses to distract her as he falls to his knees. More at her level now he releases her, his hands yanking at her underwear and pulling it past her knees hastily. She chuckles as his lips return to hers, his hands squeezing her thighs lightly before pushing them open so he can get closer. 

 

Dazed, delirious, Anne barely understands what he’s doing as he dips his head between her knees and plants a kiss at the crux of her thighs. With a yelp and her fingers tangled in his curls she tries to hold it together as his tongue slips between her folds. She can almost manage to stay upright as his fingers slide into her in a knowing move. He’s done this before, she’s completely certain, as he curls his fingers inside her and makes her bones nearly leap out of her skin. 

 

She rolls her hips and he answers by reaching for her chest, his hand cupping her breast as he continues licking into her. The orgasm strikes her like a wave, her body tensing and a soft moan escaping her lips as she rides the feeling out. 

 

He barely gives her time to recover before he’s urging her into his arms, away from the cot and onto his lap so he can trace his mouth along her clavicle. With shaking legs Anne lifts her hips and slides him inside of her, his quiet groan giving her the confidence to draw his lips to hers. 

 

They barely move for those first few moments, joined together and content to explore each other with mouths and curious hands. When eventually Anne does start to move, her heat slicking over him and her hips in his hands, she does it with a pointed need, her body hurdling them towards the precipice as she nips at his earlobe, at his shoulder. 

 

“I thought you didn’t bite,” he exclaims breathlessly, his hips rocking up to meet hers. She chuckles and replaces the bites with her lips, kissing a trail back to his mouth and moaning as his fingers come to where they’re joined once more. “I’m so close, Anne,” he admits, his movements becoming restrained as he fights off his release. 

 

“I know,” she rasps and revels in the feel of her nipples grazing the hair on his chest. The feeling makes her body tighten and she rests her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she recognizes the clench of his fingers, the small grunt that escapes him as he pushes into her and lets go. In a race to the finish she presses down and rocks into his hand, chasing her release until her whole body tightens and she comes, hard, against his solid frame. 

 

The sound of rain hitting the roof of the tent is the first thing to come back to her waking mind, reality slowly creeping back in as she comes down from her high. When she does she’s surprised to find Gilbert tracing soft kisses along her exposed skin, his long fingers splayed across her back possessively. 

 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He whispers as his mouth drags up her neck and lands once more against hers. “When you fall apart you get this ethereal look and I convince myself that you’re not from this world, you must be a faerie queen or some other being that’s going to disappear if I blink. And it’s not just how you look - your mind and all its twists and hooks - I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know what I did to find you. But goddammit Anne, I’m so fucking glad I did.” 

 

She half listens to his rambles, enjoying the way he breathes against her and the heat of him as they sit curled together on the tent floor. When she comes back to herself later she’ll wonder what he’s thinking as they sit naked on opposite ends of the cot, a deck of cards between them as his eyes light up at the sight of her winning. She’ll smile up at him as he takes his own win with a kiss as payment, her heart hammering in her chest as  _ that  _ look re-appears on his face. 

 

Only later when he kisses her goodnight before she sneaks back to her own tent under the cover of darkness will she remember his words and understand the blooming feeling of something indescribable in her chest. Only then will she look back at his tent with a smile on her face, her hand pressed to her lips as she recalls the way his words had felt on her skin. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this so far lovely people - like I said at the start, this was a writing adventure and it's got its ups and downs... Hopefully it reads enjoyably!

“When’s the wedding?” Diana asks lowly, wiggling her eyebrows at Anne as Gilbert sets down before her a plate of toast, a bowl of oatmeal and an apple. 

 

“What are you talking about?” Anne replies tightly, pushing the dishes to where Gilbert is pulling up a chair. She tries to look nonchalant as Diana looks between them pointedly. 

 

“You guys both skip game night, presumably together, and then he’s been making you breakfast like, every day for the past week. Something is  _ up _ and you have to tell me!” She pleads, grasping Anne’s hand before looking at the others and then back to her. “I won’t say a thing, Anne, I promise.” 

 

“There’s nothing - it’s nothing. He just thinks I don’t eat and - “

 

“Because you don’t,” Gilbert interjects, sliding the dishes back to her and setting his own cup of coffee on the table next to a Powerbar. 

 

“How come  _ you _ get the Powerbar?” Anne complains, swatting at his shoulder. 

 

“Because  _ I’ve _ already eaten. This is second breakfast.” She looks at him like he’s grown a second head and Diana sighs, resting her chin in her palm as she watches them. 

 

“You guys are adorable,” she laments much to Anne’s annoyance. “Reminds me of my Fred back home. Every time I go away on one of these things he thinks I’m leaving him forever. Calls me every morning no matter the timezone. He’ll do that for you too Anne, I’m sure of it.” 

 

“There’s nothing even - “ 

 

“Oh, I would. But love, I need you to stop arguing and eat your breakfast,” Gilbert says so earnestly, so believably that Anne stares at him for an unbroken second. With no shame and no surprise, he keeps his gaze locked on hers for a tense second before breaking into a wide smile, laughter bursting from his chest as he watches her try to find the words. 

 

“I can’t even believe you,” Anne scowls, shaking her head and grabbing his Powerbar. He claws it back and nods to her dishes with a smile. 

 

“But seriously, eat. I’m prescribing it for you.” She reluctantly gives in, tasting first the oatmeal and rolling her eyes at how he’d somehow turned something this boring into something so delicious. 

 

Though Diana is perceptive enough to notice, Anne is thankful that the rest of the group hasn’t yet caught on to the connection between her and Gilbert. She couldn’t bear the thought that they would laud this over her, word eventually getting back to headquarters and potentially discrediting her work over misogynistic rumours. She didn’t want to be branded as  _ that girl _ , it would kill her. 

 

The thought makes her pause later that morning as she sits in the clinic area, hands busy taking notes as she outlines her chapters. She remembers then the clause in her conduct agreement, her eyes drifting over to the tent where Gilbert worked. 

 

_ Those completing work while abroad may not fraternize while on mission. In cases where direct reporting lines are in place, disclosure of inappropriate conduct is required _ . 

 

“Fuck,” she growls, packing up her notes and heading back to the kitchen to put some distance between her and the others. She tries to focus throughout the day, re-reading her scribbles from the week and summarizing them into something a bit more comprehensible. The outline of her the book was due before she boarded her flight and she was going to get her damn job done and do it well before she got on that plane. This was just a blip on the radar and she was having a bit of fun with it, wasn’t she allowed that?   


“You’re scowling pretty severely at that paperwork, Annie,” Ruby greets as she opens the fridge and starts digging around, her patronizing nickname grating on Anne’s nerves. 

 

“That’s because it’s not finishing itself,” she grumbles in return and Ruby laughs, coming over to lean against the table with her hip. 

 

“I’m sure someone around here could help you out with it, if you asked nice enough.” Anne grips her pen tighter in her fist, avoiding looking up at the girl and confirming whatever she was digging for. Her tone was knowing, cheerful and conspiratorial. Ruby knew. 

 

“Mmm, who knows how to read this gibberish though?” Anne sighs, schooling her face into a neutral smile, one she hopes gives away nothing. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Gilbert approaching with Diana, the lunch break causing more people to start filling the small kitchen. “I should clean this up and get it typed up. Excuse me.” 

 

Hastily, Anne clears her scattering of notes from the table and stuffs her papers into her folder, grasping it to her chest as she hurries out of the kitchen tent. She’s nearly past the approaching group when an arm snakes out to grab her wrist, nearly pulling her off her feet. 

 

“Hey!” She barks, yanking her arm free forcefully and glaring up at the culprit. Gilbert freezes and lifts his hands in surrender, his expression apologetic. 

 

“Where are you going?” He asks carefully, his brow furrowing as she grips her folder against her chest and tries to slow her panicked breathing. She had to pretend like everything was normal, like everyone didn’t know about them. She couldn’t be  _ that girl _ . 

 

“I’ve got a bit more work to do in the admin tent,” she replies. 

 

“But it’s lunch - are you not going to eat?” He presses and folds his arms over his chest, his stance angering her more with every second. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the group watching their exchange, observing her and judging her, and she felt like a scolded child.

 

“You’re not my keeper, Gilbert,” she hisses and turns on her heel, determined to put some much needed space between them. Never one for defeat, he easily catches up with her and matches her pace. “Go away,” Anne urges, continuing her steps and trying to get ahead of him. 

 

“Why are you being so crazy right now? What’s going on?” 

 

“Crazy?” She stops, closing her eyes and shaking her head. When she looks up at him then he can see the fury in her eyes sparking, the flush climbing up her neck like a thermometer. “I’m being crazy? Of course it’s me, the redhead, always the crazy one with the fiery temper!” 

 

“That’s not what I - “ 

 

“I can’t be seen with you Gil. Please let me just salvage whatever reputation I have left.” Her words are damning and she can’t bare to look at him anymore so she focuses on her boots in the gravel, her body shaking with the stress of it. How had it taken her so long to realize it? How could she have let this happen?

 

“Obviously something is bothering you and while I know you don’t want to talk about it now, and I respect that you don’t want to talk about it now, I’m going to need an explanation at some point,” he states evenly, watching her for a drawn out moment before he turns on his heel and stalks back towards the kitchen. 

 

When he’s gone she exhales the shaky breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes at the wave of frustration and disappointment that cuts through her. She hadn’t wanted to push him away - in fact she wanted the exact opposite - but Ruby’s comment had put her on edge and she didn’t want to risk her future on something so foolish as a few good hours on her back. 

 

“Jesus Anne, you’ve gone and gotten yourself into quite the mess,” she mumbles to herself, Marilla’s voice echoing in her head, before turning and heading pointedly towards the admin tent and as far away from Gilbert as she could get within the camp fences. 

 

* * *

 

Gilbert gives her space after that, no longer preparing her meals or sitting beside her, his distance almost cold except for the looks he continued to shoot her way over the next day. She hates to admit it but they’re almost painful in their obviousness, his disappointment and confusion clear as he looks down at his feet every time she meets her eyes with his. 

 

She tries to carry on with her work despite the gnawing feeling she has in her gut that it was the wrong move to push him away. She tries to finish her outline, to get some of the stories down onto pages, but even the words could tell she wasn’t completely focused on her writing. Or at least she thought they could tell. 

 

_ This _ is why that clause existed, she realizes pathetically as she drops her head in her hands. It was almost midnight and she was still sitting at a computer in the admin tent, her eyes unfocused and her stomach growling. She’d skipped dinner. She couldn’t remember lunch. The old ommage from her school counsellor came back to her then: 

 

_ “You’re eating your stress, Anne.” _

 

And she was. Her body was running on pure adrenaline and the little body fat she had, the water and Powerbars doing nothing to combat the calories she was burning through every day with the heat and the endless walking. She was playing with fire and if she didn’t get her act together soon she’d burn herself out and end up back home before she realized. 

 

Tomorrow. She’d focus on it then. She had to, she thought as she got to her feet and closed down the computer. With an uneasy gait she stumbles back towards her tent, her mind foggy as she tries to create a list in her head of the tasks she needed to accomplish in the morning. 

 

All of the thoughts and lists she mentally prepared are wiped from her consciousness as she comes around the edge of the tent and sees Gilbert sitting in her lawnchair, his hands in his lap and his scrubs still on. 

 

“What are you doing here?” She asks lowly, her eyes wide in the dull light. 

 

“I was waiting for you,” he replies and shrugs, his gaze focused on the ground as she leans down to open the zipper. Surprise sputters in her chest as his fingers find hers and tangle together, drawing her to look at him. 

 

“It’s late, Gil,” she breathes, uncertainty filling her as his thumb rubs circles across the back of her hand. Around them the quiet of the camp is almost deafening, the sounds of the street shuttered by the trees as night creeps in. She couldn’t have this conversation now, not when anything louder than her whispers would carry to every tent in the place.

 

“I know. I’ve been waiting for a bit.” 

 

“Did anyone see you?” Her heart is in her throat, hammering out a staccato beat. 

 

“No. They’ve all been asleep for a couple hours. Can we talk?” He asks softly, tugging gently on her hand and urging her closer to him. She gives in and nods to her tent, opening the flap for him and entering the small space to find him towering over her. 

 

Neither of them say a word for a minute, Anne busy digging through her kit for her pajamas and a towel, her intent to shower before collapsing into bed hopeful. When she finally finds the items and turns to face him he’s almost too close, her eyes boring into his chest and not daring to glance up at him. He picks up on her reluctance and lifts her chin with his fingers, his eyes searching hers. 

 

“Can we sit down?” He asks and she nods, dropping onto her cot as though commanded to. He debates for a moment settling beside her but chooses instead to sit on the floor so he can face her head on, a little bit of distance needed to steady himself. “I’m not really sure I know what’s going on,” he starts, crossing his legs as he picks at his fingers. 

 

“What do you mean?” She lies, avoiding the obvious elephant in the room. 

 

“We were… I don’t know. Friends isn’t right. It was something else we were working on. More important, I felt. But something in you just switched off yesterday and you’ve frozen me out. You’re avoiding me and I don’t get why and you won’t really tell me why so now I’ve got all these crazy theories in my head about something I did to upset you when really I think you’ve just got an entire scenario happening in your own head that you’re freaking out about and you won’t tell me because who the fuck knows but whatever it is it’s - “ 

 

“Gil - slow down,” she interrupts his word stew, offering him a sad smile as he looks up at her. 

 

“What the fuck is even happening here, Anne?” He asks plainly, sugar coating none of it. He doesn’t even smile as he says it, the frustration evident in his expression as she feels a pang of sadness riddle through her. 

 

“We don’t even know each other, not really. Why does it matter?” She counters, unwilling to lay herself out before him. Not now. Not when she was so tired. 

 

“It matters because I  _ want _ to know you, Anne. I’m seeing you day in day out, talking to you, listening to how fucking smart you are… I don’t - this was just supposed to be a fling, I get that, but there’s something about you that I can’t shake. If you don’t accept that - if it’s truly just on my side - tell me now and I’ll walk out of here and not look back.” 

 

She shifts on the cot, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She couldn’t ask him to leave. She couldn’t ask him for anything. She was tapped out, exhausted, and she didn’t know what she wanted. Did she? 

 

“I’m taking your silence as proof that you feel something here too or else I know you would have kicked me out quite thoroughly by now,” he pauses, getting up and coming to sit beside her but still tucking his hands in his lap. “What happened to make you withdraw? What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

 

“I don’t want people to know that we’re… That we’re breaking the conduct clauses. I can’t lose this opportunity to write, Gil. I don’t have a cushy medical practice to fall back on. I’ve only got this and if it gets out that I’m sleeping my way into interviews then I’m toast,” she finishes roughly, her hands twisting against the cotton of her towel. 

 

“You’re worried about that? All of this cold shoulder and not eating because you think you’re going to be punished for talking to me?” 

 

“The eating thing - that’s just something I do. I know I should be better about it but when I get stressed out I forget to eat. I don’t mean to, it just happens,” she shrugs and looks away. “And it’s not the punishment. It’s the reputation. It’s hard enough here for people to open up to me when I’m not a medical professional. If I was branded as a slut nobody would talk to me at all. I’d get blackballed.” 

 

He let’s that hang between them for a moment, his heavy sigh the only sound filling the small space as he rubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t realize - I didn’t think about what it meant for you. I’m sorry.” 

 

“I appreciate your apology Gil.” The silence drags on between them, the tension in the small space evolving as they sit together, unsure, hesitant. 

 

“What do you need from me then?” He asks eventually, looking towards her and watching the nerves cross her face. 

 

“I’m not sure. I know I don’t want the team to know - can you help me with that?” She shifts and leans back slightly, setting down her shower supplies. Gilbert nods and rests a hand on her knee, squeezing it lightly. 

 

“I can definitely try to be less obvious about it. What else?” 

 

“What do you mean what else?” Her voice rises slightly with the question and he smiles, lifting a brow. 

 

“Well, if it’s just keeping whatever this is from the others… That’s easy. But the rest of it - I mean, is there still a rest of it?” He asks hopefully and she pauses, meeting her gaze with his. 

 

“You’re leaving soon. Is there even a point to the rest of it?” She rasps, her chest feeling tight with the realization. It would be over before she knew it. She’d never see him again. She wasn’t sure what gave her more anxiety - the threat of exposure or the shortness of time they still had together. 

 

“Yes, there is. Like I said, this feels bigger to me. I’m not going to miss out on a single day,” he urges as his hands find hers, bringing them to his lips. She appreciated then that he made no promises for what happened after, understanding that the idea of it was better not to discuss tonight. 

 

“Are you sure you want to stick by this crazy person?” Anne asks lowly, glancing up at him and then looking back to her hands still held tightly in his. 

 

“Oh yeah. I don’t see that as a flaw - it just means you’re thinking two steps ahead of everyone else. That’s what I admire about you.” She chuckles at that and leans her head on his shoulder, exhaling the breath she’d been holding. 

 

“Do you know what my next move is then, Doctor Blythe?” 

 

“I’m betting it has something to do with that towel, am I right?” She nods and reluctantly pulls away, getting to her feet and watching as he follows her slowly. They move to leave the tent and Gilbert grabs at her hand, pulling her back towards him and capturing her lips with his. 

 

The squeak of surprise slips out of her as she drops her things and grasps at his shoulders, steadying herself as his hands grab fistfuls of her shirt to keep her held to him. 

 

“Would you mind terribly if I joined you?” He whispers, his body pressed to hers and the heat of him swirling around them. Her eyes meet his in the low light and she shakes her head, pulling him back down for a kiss that she feels echo all the way down to her toes. 

 

They part with reluctance as Gilbert heads back to his tent to gather his things and Anne makes her way towards the showers. She strips and turns the water on, letting the stream of it course over her as it washes away the stress of the last two days. There was something healing about a shower, she thought, as the hot water eased her muscles and made her hair hang heavy on her shoulders. 

 

With her head under the faucet she barely hears Gilbert come in behind her, his tall frame almost too big for the little shelter as she looks at him over her shoulder. His hands slip along her hips, rotating her out of the stream of water for a second as he rinses the day from his shoulders. 

 

They don’t speak as Anne settles in against him, her head resting on his chest as his fingers run shampoo through her hair. She can hear the beat of his heart, the movement of his breathing, and it connects her back to earth so forcefully that she nearly stumbles under the weight of it. 

 

Lathering and rinsing, their hands light over each other’s skin as they move slowly together. Their lips meeting in brief kisses that they drag along lines to palms and hearts, a silent expression of words neither of them will say aloud. When eventually their skin has wrinkled and the water turns cold they towel off and dress before heading back towards Anne’s tent with linked fingers. 

 

“Do you want me to stay?” Gilbert asks hesitantly as they linger together in the entrance to her tent. She looks up at him then, a soft smile on her lips as she lifts her hand to his jaw. 

 

“I don’t have as much room as you have so you don’t have to, if you want to go sleep in your own bed,” she offers reluctantly. They both had to get sleep and she wasn’t sure how well they would do that with only her small cot and her tiny slip of space. 

 

“I don’t care about all of that. I’d rather spend the night with you, if that’s okay?” He matches her touch, his fingers brushing a strip of wet hair away from her brow. 

 

Without another word Anne turns and zips the flap closed, turning back to find Gilbert already working on re-adjusting her things. In a minute he has the cot shoved to the side of the tent, the sheets and pillow spread out on the floor and her things stacked cleanly in the corner next to her storage unit. From his place on his knees he draws her down beside him, his hands ghosting over her curves as he settles his lips against hers. 

 

“I just wanted that one,” he breathes when he pulls away, staring down at her as she falters under his touch. She didn’t just want that one kiss - she wanted them all - but she knew they were both exhausted. She could see it in his eyes, in the dark shadows that grew starker in the night. 

 

Toeing off her shoes she takes his hand in hers and pulls him down to lay before her, the single pillow split between them. Gilbert’s arms drag her closer until their chests are pressed together, her face tucked into his neck and their legs tangled together. 

 

_ His pajamas smell like home _ , she remembers thinking as her last thought before she drifts off to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

The buzzing of Gilbert’s watch brings them around in the early hours of the morning, Anne’s body shivering in the cool morning temperatures. Her movements are stilled by his hands pulling her closer, his fingers returning to her skin as he silences the noise and mumbles something into her shoulder. 

 

“Mmm, I don’t want to get up,” she whispers into his chest, cuddling infinitely closer. He tightens his arms and presses a kiss to her cheek, his fingers brushing through the tangle of hair at her temple. 

 

“I set my watch early to give me time to get back before people start to wake up,” he replies much to her disappointment. She lifts her head and glares at him, only relenting when he lifts his lips to hers and steals a soft kiss. “Maybe I set it a bit earlier than necessary so I could get to hold onto you a bit more.” 

 

Her cheeks flush as she curls back into him, her hands sliding over his sides and her leg shifting to wrap around his hip. “I’ve trapped you, Doctor Blythe. You can’t get away from me now.” Her words are tired but breathy, her heart thumping in her chest with the feel of him held to her. 

 

“Oh, Anne-girl,” he sighs, his arms tightening around her for a moment before he forces himself to roll away onto his back. He stares at the ceiling as her hand brushes over his chest, a sound of protest spilling from her. “If I don’t get up now the jig is up,” he admits and turns to look at her, honest and plain. She could feel his reluctance in his stare, could feel the ache of the distance between them. 

 

“See you at breakfast then?” She questions softly, an extended olive branch to help bridge the distance between where they wanted to be and where they had to be to protect her position. 

 

“Definitely. I’ll leave you something in the back of the fridge, okay?” He adds as he gets to his feet, slipping on his shoes and collecting his shower bag. 

 

“You don’t have to make me breakfast again, Gil,” she replies on a huff, sitting up to watch him unzip the tent flap. 

 

“I like making you breakfast. I like this taking care of you part. It’s in my nature, clearly,” he chuckles and then kneels down to capture her lips with his, the soft kiss drawn out until his watch buzzes again. “I do need to go - Muriel is on a strict morning routine and she’ll notice if I’m not out for my run soon.” 

 

“You run? Here?” He shoots her a wide smile as he disappears through the flaps, zipping them closed with as much stealth as he can muster. Inside Anne’s heart stutters as she lays her head back on the pillow, pulling the blanket around her to replace the warmth of his body. 

 

She didn’t understand how it had happened but she’d somehow found herself in deep, almost over her head, with feelings for this man. In any place but here she would surely ask herself how such a short time had somehow felt like an entire lifetime, her heart clenching at thought of it. Gilbert had wormed his way in and bewitched her and now she had no idea which way was up and which was down. 

 

With a huff and a few deep breaths she eases her mind back to sleep, the scent of him keeping her company as she drifts off once more. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter but I'm still adjusting some of the later chapters, extending it, so bear with me!

When they round into the final week of his mission they do so with trepidation, Anne’s gaze searching his out more fully during meals and his hand linking fingers with hers more frequently during quick passes between their stations. 

 

“I have to work late tonight on a report for HQ - will you be up later?” She asks in the late afternoon as she catches him between break and returning to the clinic. 

 

“I might - I’m pretty beat. Do you, uh,” he pauses, looking around them quickly. “Just want to come find me when you’re done?” 

 

“Sounds good, Doc,” she replies brightly, giving him a false salute before smiling and disappearing towards the admin tent. She turns back quickly to catch him watching her, his expression sending shivers down her spine. How did he put so much feeling into one look? 

 

The afternoon quickly dissolves as she types out her next round of notes and condenses them into an operational report for Muriel’s transmission back to HQ. She is almost done, her brain in editing mode, when she hears the alarm sound out, it’s unfamiliar tone grating on her nerves as she tries to continue focusing. 

 

When still it doesn’t stop after a moment she looks up, watching through the tent window as the night shift crawls out of their tents and looks around. 

 

“What is that?” She shouts across the space to Muriel who has jolted to her feet. The woman’s expression turns neutral as she pulls on her identification cards quickly. 

 

“Critical incident alarm. There isn’t a scheduled test today,” she replies back. Anne gets to her feet and follows her out of the tent, her heart hammering in her chest as she heads towards the gate of the clinic. 

 

In front of her a mass of activity is happening, security at the gate struggling to maintain order as the team works as quick as they can through the horde of people pouring in. Anne freezes in place at the sight, her hand covering her mouth as the sounds of pain surround her. What could she do? What had she learned? 

 

With a hesitant step, and then another more deliberate one, she heads towards the gate and settles herself before leaping into the fray. 

 

They catalogue and treat and watch the bodies begin to rise as the traffic accident paralyzes the daily function of the clinic. Anne tries as best she can to control the crowd of incoming family and friends, collecting and relaying information as she’s able to through translators and community members. 

 

While the team works desperately to stem wounds and determine the fates of others there is almost an unending amount of tragedy that pours into their little clinic that late afternoon. 

 

“I need more body bags,” Muriel demands as Anne passes by her, the woman’s bloody glove grabbing Anne’s shirt. Numbly, Anne nods and turns on her heel, sprinting towards the storage shed and rummaging through the labelled kits until she can find the box of heavy plastic bags. 

 

She makes it back to the clinic quickly and let’s the woman know about the re-stocked item, returning to her task and taking names down on a clipboard before capturing a photo of the person. When she returns to the mess of people she tries to keep them updated as she provides more information, discussing with loved ones the condition that their family member was in. 

 

It’s exhausting, stressful, and she feels about ready to collapse when eventually Muriel comes to dismiss her, the woman’s face drawn as she sends her to the kitchen for an impromptu team meeting as the night shift takes the lead. 

 

Almost in a daze, Anne walks the path she’s walked for a month, picking at the blood that had somehow gotten on her hands in the chaos of action. When she stumbles into the kitchen the team members she sees there are pale, stricken, and she recognizes the stunned hurt that clouds each of their eyes. 

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” a soft voice says from over her shoulder, guiding her away from the kitchen and towards the bathroom sinks. With steady hands Gilbert turns on the water and lathers his palms, moving the soap over her arms and cleaning her skin of the red stains. 

 

They don’t speak as she changes into a set of scrubs and they head back towards the kitchen to settle into the plastic chairs, everyone’s gaze focused on anything but each other as Muriel eventually clears her throat. 

 

“I’m very proud of the reaction and care that each of you had today in dealing with this. We are not a trauma facility but you provided the skills and resources that you had with surprising efficiency and attention to patient care. I realize this was an exceptionally difficult day for a lot of you so I’m releasing you an hour early from your shifts. Tomorrow morning’s meeting will be held at the same time, please ensure you attend. Try to get some rest and if you need to talk, please come find me,” she adds, her gaze measured as she looks around at the group. 

 

Beside Anne Gilbert shifts, his elbows resting on his knees as he watches the gravel below him. She can sense the tears he sheds, his posture tight with the pain of it, and she wishes she could pull him to her as he struggles to hold the load. 

 

“Your emergency skills were well used today, Blythe,” Muriel states as she rests a hand on his shoulder, her fingers squeezing as he sniffs and nods towards the ground. “See he gets some rest, will you Anne?” 

 

Her knowing gaze, soft and understanding, would have at any other time put the fear of dread in Anne’s gut but now only served to push her into action. 

 

“Gil,” Anne breathes as Muriel walks away, her hand resting across his spine and drawing small circles there. Her touch breaks him out of his slouch and he abruptly pulls her to him, holding her to his chest in a crushing hug that she tries to return as best she can. 

 

She doesn’t care in that moment about what everyone else may think, about her reputation or the threat to her job, all she cares about is this man and the tears he sheds into her shirt, his fists tight against her back as he clings to her. 

 

“Let’s go get you changed before dinner,” she whispers eventually, her fingers stilling at the back of his neck as he slowly draws back to look at her. He gives a quick nod and moves to his feet, dumbly heading towards his tent as she trails behind him. 

 

Once inside the small space she draws him to her again, her lips pressing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, before she leans back to look at him. “Are you alright?” She asks quietly, desperate to steady his onslaught of emotions since the incident. 

 

“I will be. I just - I left my position with the hospital’s emergency care unit because there were too many losses. I wasn’t prepared for this… Or to have this kind of reaction to it,” he confesses as she runs her hands along his arms. “Are  _ you  _ okay now? How did you get covered in blood?” His concern lights up his expression then, like he’d just remembered that he’d helped her wash not half an hour ago. 

 

“I’m fine - it - I don’t really know how it happened. It’s fine though,” she replies weakly, shifting under the intensity of his gaze. “You should get changed. We’ll go eat and then we can talk, okay?” 

 

With a brisk nod he turns to strip down and takes his clothes from her outstretched hand with a familiarity born of habit. When he’s re-dressed they step back into the low evening light, walking hand in hand towards the dining area where the subdued team is gathering for dinner. 

 

“I think Muriel knows about us,” Anne says as they round into sight, Gilbert squeezing her hand before releasing to abide by their agreement to hide what was going on between them. 

 

“Oh, she definitely knows. She doesn’t care though,” he replies quietly, glancing down to see her pause her step. 

 

“What do you mean she knows? How does she know?” Anne hisses, eyes wide as she wraps her arms around her chest. How had  _ he _ known that it wasn’t a secret from their boss? 

 

“She caught me coming out of your tent that first time. She only told me it better not cause any complaints or she’d boot me out of here faster than I could get to the airport,” he adds and lifts his hand to rest on her wrist. “She’s only ever come to your defence, Anne. If anything, she’d come after me if anything went arigh.” 

 

“How do you know all of this?” She asks weakly, the surprise of it making her pause. Her gaze locks on his as he steps closer, his red-rimmed eyes softening. 

 

“We run together in the mornings. Sometimes we talk. I promise she’s on your side - please don’t be mad about this,” he requests, crowding closer. Behind him she can see Diana watching them, her hands over her heart as Ruby forcibly turns the woman back towards the table. 

 

“I wish you’d told me earlier Gil. Have we only been pretending for my sake?” She asks as eventually she starts walking again towards the dining area. He turns and catches up to her, his hand grazing hers before capturing it in his grip. She doesn’t shrink him off and he thinks a small victory has been won, his heart stumbling with the possibility of it. 

 

“Kind of. We’re really bad at pretending, I think. Nobody else seems to care. We don’t report to each other and we’re not being annoying about it or causing issues. I think they’re happy to just ignore it,” he adds before they pick up their dishes. 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Do you know what that realization could have meant for you?” Anne whispers, looking up at him with a tentative smile. He feels the look slam into his chest, his neck flushing. 

 

“Don’t even start. I won’t survive if you tell me,” he replies and follows her to the table.

 

Together they settle into the group and try to lighten the mood, those around the table working desperately to bring a sense of normality to their evening as they struggle to brush off the day’s heavy events. When dessert is served they dig into it thoroughly, a quiet filling the air as one by one they say their goodnights and head to the lounge or their tents. 

 

Eventually Anne and Gilbert are the only ones left, an unspoken conversation between them as their fingers lock under the table. 

 

“I was going to call home but the wifi will probably be tied up for a while,” he says after a moment, leaving the evening open. 

 

“Same. I’ve been so busy that Marilla has managed to send me  _ two _ emails. She barely knows how to turn on the computer, let alone type up an email,” Anne laughs and shifts closer, watching his expression flicker. 

 

“Do you want to just go lay down? I really am beat,” he asks and looks away, almost nervous. She lifts her hand and turns his chin back towards her, a question in her gaze. 

 

“I will happily spend time doing nothing with you, Gil,” she answers lowly and gets to her feet. 

 

They move towards his tent and slip through the flap without a care for who may have seen them, the worries of yesterday gone in the revelation of Muriel’s knowledge and the day’s events. Inside Gil gathers his extra sleeping bag and pad, spreading them out across the floor as Anne pokes through the few items he’s placed on his storage unit. 

 

“Come here,” he requests, already seated on the blankets as he tugs her down. She follows him easily and doesn’t fight when he guides her into his lap, his arms drawing her close to him as he shudders out a breath. 

 

“It’s okay, Gil,” she soothes, her hands tangling in his hair and holding him to her chest. “You did well today. You did what you could and that’s enough.” 

 

She doesn’t know how long they sit there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, but when eventually Gilbert’s lips find hers it’s with a promise of hope, one that bleeds through his touch and into her body. She leans into it, holding her hands to his shoulders as his fingers graze her neck, her chin, keeping her bound to him. 

 

“Where did you come from, Anne-girl?” He whispers when they pull apart, his gaze searching. 

 

“What kind of question is that?” Is all she can respond, her throat tight with the emotions she feels under his look. With a soft glance he returns his lips to hers, begging for entry and finding solace when she grants it. 

 

Their hands turn frantic then, driving and searching for distraction as they pull at each others clothes and shift to lay across the blankets. When there’s nothing left between them Gilbert sighs, his fingers tracing down her frame as his eyes follow. 

 

“You’re a wonder. You’re like a balm that I can’t live without. I don’t know what’s next for me but I know one thing for sure is that you’ve dug yourself a place in my chest and no matter where you are, no matter how much space is between us, I’ll still have you here,” he whispers and motions to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. 

 

“I - I feel the same. I don’t understand how, but I do,” she adds and reaches for him, dragging his body over hers until he’s cradled in her embrace. In another second he’s joined them, her mouth opening in surprise as he groans with the feel of her. 

 

Neither of them speak after that, their hips and hands communicating for them as they rock steadily together. With mouths and fingers they rush each other forward, driving closer to the precipice as their hearts race and their breathing becomes erratic. Anne is the first to come apart, clinging to him as he drives into her forcefully, his hips almost painful as he holds her knees open and drives himself deeper. Her hands tangle in his hair, holding on as he chases his release. When he finally lets go its with a breathless cry, his face pressed into her neck and his hips starting to slow. 

 

The tears come then, hot and wet against her skin as he holds tightly to her. Curling around him, Anne pulls the blanket over his shoulders and rubs soothing circles over his back as he lets the emotions run through. Later, when he eventually pulls away, she follows him and tucks herself against his chest so that there’s no space for his memories to get at him as sleep takes over. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been utter chaos! I was delaying posting this because I was still fixing some things at the end. I think I'm in the clear here though now! The next chapter might be a bit later next week, depending on how delayed in airports I am ;)

“Anne, we’ve got a team running outreach in the community over the next two days. Did you want to join them?” Muriel asks after the morning meeting has ended and the group has dispersed, leaning her hip against the table where Anne’s empty coffee sits. Over Muriel’s shoulder Gilbert shoots her a wink, his wide smile brightening his expression as he heads towards the clinic area.

 

“You mean, go out and meet the refugee population?” She sits up, eyes widening at the opportunity. She remembered telling the woman that she had wanted to get out and interview some of the community to help personalize the lives they were working to help save but she wasn’t sure she’d get the chance given that she was isolated here in the clinic’s camp. Now that door was opening before her. 

 

“Well, yes. See what our team does, get a feel for what life is like where they’re living. You can meet some of the local population and talk to them about their experiences. It might be helpful for your readers to understand it’s not just a bunch of foreigners out here acting like cowboys - that we’re actually filling a pretty large gap,” she pauses and looks around, leaning a touch closer. “Most of the people in this clinic don’t get to go out into the community. It’s mostly the local staff with one or two outreach people so you get to see what’s going on without the filter of these fences.” 

 

Anne doesn’t hesitate to agree after that, realizing the woman was handing her access to a group who was largely disadvantaged in the world. She could have conversations that she wouldn’t get anywhere else, especially not through official channels. 

 

“Great - they’re leaving at 10 if you need to go prepare. I’d recommend boots and definitely don’t forget your ID and passport, you’ll need them if any authorities request them. The group should be able to drop you back in time for dinner but if not, pack a couple meal replacement bars and a few extra water bottles just in case,” Muriel recommends as they walk together towards the admin tent. 

 

Eventually Anne breaks away and ducks to her tent, collecting some things for her go-bag and then beelines towards the kitchen area where she tucks some food and water into her backpack. Mentally double checking her list, she hurries to the gate to catch the convoy of vehicles and settles into the backseat. 

 

The ride into the heart of the camp is bumpy, full of chaotic traffic and people crowding up against the vehicles. She watches all of it eagerly, soaking in the sights of life that pass her by and the living conditions that seem to be hanging on by a thread. Little shanty structures are built up along muddy slopes, tarps pulled tight across roofs to keep the rain out. The team inside of the vehicle chats idly as they move further and further into the dense community. 

 

“You see that flag?” Sera, the woman beside her says and points into the distance towards a hill with what looks to be a brick and mortar building standing upon it. 

 

“Yes - is that where we’re going?” 

 

“Yes. We change out the flags to let people know we’re here and then we wait for people to make their way to us. If they need more substantial treatment then we tell them about the clinic and how to get there. Most are just interested in check ups but we try to help them with other issues that may come about.” Anne listens intently as the woman continues on, discussing the health patterns of the population and the range of issues that have presented themselves. 

 

Arriving at their destination they pile out of the vehicle, the group quickly getting to work in setting up their impromptu station. Anne attempts to help, raising the flag and helping to lift boxes from the vehicle as instructed by the group leader. When everything is set she takes the opportunity to connect with the translator, listening to their story and requesting permission to take notes. The man nods enthusiastically, explaining his desire for the story of his people to get out.

 

“We’re silenced here,” he laments, his arms crossed over his chest and his head shaking. “There’s no hope, no school. We can’t contribute so we’re just here living. It is no life.” 

 

The people start appearing onto the road out of the small walkways and alleys that spread throughout the camp and soon the team is too busy to talk, flipping into action mode with the arrival of their clients. Anne observes as best she can, following the translator around and letting him introduce her. In some cases she’s asked to leave and she goes quickly, hovering near the vehicle until she’s called back for the next person all the while scribbling things into the pages of her notebook. 

 

So entranced in her work Anne misses the arrival of the authorities, their SUV pulling up beside their van and a group of armed men spilling out of it. 

 

“Anne, put your notebook away,” Sera instructs, her hand gripping Anne’s shoulder as the men move into their makeshift clinic area. The head doctor moves to address the leader as the men filter through the group, shouting commands in a language she doesn’t understand. She tries to tuck her bag under the table to avoid it’s notice, listening aptly as instructions are given to them to stay where they are. 

 

“Papers.” A man with military garb requests, his gun held at his side as Anne looks up at him with wide eyes. 

 

“Yes sir,” she breathes, bending over to grab her backpack from under the table. The man yanks it from her hands, dumping the contents over the plastic surface and then discarding the nylon sack on the ground. Anne keeps quiet as he pushes the contents around, lifting her ID up to inspect it more closely. 

 

“Wear it,” he instructs and tosses it to her, moving on to her passport and checking her visa. When her papers have been reviewed she breathes a sigh of relief, watching as the man turns away for a moment. She nearly thinks she’s in the clear when another man comes towards them, lifting her notebook up between his fingers and shooting her a pointed glance. 

 

“What is this?” He questions, flipping through the pages as her heart beats erratically in her chest. 

 

“Notes - I write for my organization,” she replies lowly, her skin going pale at the look he sends her. 

 

“You are journalist?” He presses, tucking her notebook in his pocket. “This is not the visa for journalist. You cannot be here.” With a step towards her, Anne recoils into Sera and shakes her head, fear racing through her. 

 

“I’m not a journalist. I’m not,” she insists. The translator steps up to her defence, arguing her case in the local language as the man reaches for her shoulder. Roughly, he turns her around and pulls her hands together behind her back. 

 

“We don’t allow journalists.”

 

“I’m not - I’m not a journalist,” Anne cries as the man tightens a zip tie around her wrists. The plastic bites into her skin and she yelps, looking wide eyed towards the group leader who is arguing emphatically with the man in charge. No one moves as she’s lead out towards the official’s vehicle, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she’s shoved onto the leather seat and the door is closed behind her. 

 

Tears burn her eyes then as she tries to lean forward and lessen the pressure on her wrists, her heart beating out of control as she waits alone in the vehicle. Cursing herself for not having a better story, for leaving her go-bag behind, Anne tries to keep herself together as the time draws out. She thinks of Gilbert, of his wide grin and his knowing gaze. How she hadn’t said goodbye before she’d left today. 

 

“You, out!” One of the armed men cuts into her thoughts, the door beside her opening abruptly and a hand clasping her shoulder. She’s forced out onto the road, stumbling to the ground as boots step around her. 

 

Shifting to get her knees under her, Anne watches as the men pile back into the SUV and slam the doors closed. Hands grasp under her arms and lift her back to standing, guiding her into the clinic area as voices criss cross around the room. 

 

“It’s okay Anne,” Sera says soothingly, kneeling before her as someone cuts loose her wrists. The woman takes her hands in her own and rubs her thumbs over her knuckles, squeezing tightly as a blanket is wrapped around her shoulders. “They’re gone. They didn’t understand at first but we were able to explain. You’re alright.” 

 

The wave of relief washes over her and she hiccups out a breath, pulling the blanket tighter around her shaking shoulders despite the heat of the day. Adrenaline pulses through her veins and she feels lightheaded with it, the acute fear of being detained slowly starting to ease. 

 

“We’re going to get you back to the camp now. You’ll need to fill out a report,” Sera explains as she starts to gather her things from where they’ve been scattered around the table. Anne nods absently as she palms the pen in her pocket, the one thing that had always provided her such solace now almost a threat to her. 

 

“Did they keep my notebook?” Anne asks eventually as they settle back into their van. Sera nods, a sorry look on her face. 

 

“But you remember things, yes?” Anne nods at that, focusing in on the positive. She could still write about this. She could still tell their stories, even if she didn’t have her notes. That’s what she would do even if they obviously didn’t want her to.

 

The trip back to the camp speeds by in a blur and soon Anne is stepping out of the van, grabbing her bag and following the group leader towards the admin tent. Inside the dome the man explains what had happened to Muriel, their gazes flickering towards her as she sits calmly in a chair before her computer. Eventually she hears the van start up and pull away and she turns to see Muriel watching her with a steady gaze, a brow lifted. 

 

“Do you need anything from me or do you just want to start writing?” Muriel asks lowly, understanding the look in Anne’s eyes. It was determined and angry, full of the drive that had brought her on this mission in the first place. 

 

This moment was where she could be the victim of her experience, where she could get lost in the fear and anxiousness she’d felt, or she could fight through it. It was up to her to rise above it. She had to take this chance to be the voice that fought on behalf of all the people who lived with this fear daily. She could do that for them. 

 

“I think I’ll start writing,” Anne replied quietly, turning towards her computer and tapping the keys to login. 

 

She writes into the early hours of the morning, pouring every conversation, every thought and observation that she remembers from her day into the file that she’s created. Her notes bloom from scribbles in a stolen notebook into a spawning document that spurs and gives voice to the silenced. Her mind functions on a single track, focused, and she uses that focus to block out all the wonderings that had managed to distract her for the last few weeks. 

 

When she finishes she sits back in her chair and rubs her face, the emotions of the day finally coming to the surface and spilling into her exhaustion. Forcing herself to her feet she wipes at her cheeks and exhales, leaving the admin tent and walking pointedly towards the accommodations area. 

 

Gilbert’s tent is dark and silent as she passes and for a brief moment she debates waking him, debates asking to curl into his embrace for the comfort she so longed for in this moment. But she couldn’t do that. She knew that neither of them would get much sleep if she went to him, if she explained why she had come calling as such an early hour.

 

So instead she let her feet carry her to her own tent, slipping off her shoes and tucking herself into her cot to let a restless sleep eventually overcome her. 

 

* * *

 

Morning comes over the camp too soon and Anne’s alarm rattles her awake, her fingers pressing at buttons on her phone to cease its harassment. In her haste she almost misses the text from Muriel giving her permission to sleep in, to join them when she felt ready. With a sigh Anne rolls over and lets her mind doze once more, the dreams abating for those few more hours. 

 

She doesn’t hear the zip of her tent or the settling of dishes beside her cot, her slumber uninterrupted until the mid-morning sun warms her space beyond comfort. Groaning, Anne eventually sits up and takes in the sight of the breakfast set for her, the Powerbar with a makeshift bow wrapped around it next to a cold cup of coffee and some buttered toast.  _ Gilbert _ . 

 

Lifting the tray onto her storage unit she nibbles at the food while she gathers her things for the shower. She could do with a rinse, even just to get the trace of yesterday’s dirt off of her skin. That and at least the remnants of stress that still clung to her. 

 

Making quick work of her routine Anne eventually tracks her way to the admin tent, slipping inside to see Muriel sitting on the phone, her hand pressed to her brow as she angrily speaks into the line. For a moment Anne debates leaving, turning towards the door once more before Muriel captures her attention with her palm clapping against the desk. A finger points her towards her desk and she settles into it, setting down her coffee as Muriel finishes up the call. 

 

“That was HQ - apparently they’re receiving word of what happened yesterday and they would like to speak to you today,” she states evenly, her hands clasping together. 

 

Anne shifts, chewing her lip as she debates what to say. “Was I in the wrong to go out there? Am I being sent home?” 

 

“No, not at all. But they would like to do a wellness check this afternoon. And Gilbert has been asking about you, quite pointedly, I may add - “ 

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to them. All of them. Explain it - “ Anne interjects, closing her eyes as the woman sighs. 

 

“Anne, dear, you’re not in trouble here. I’m telling you so that you can place your priorities in order. I would like to ensure you are able to complete your work but if you’re having difficulty, or you need someone to speak with, we can make those arrangements. I realize yesterday was challenging,” she pauses, watching as Anne closes her eyes and lets her face crumble. “But you’re strong, Anne. I read what you worked on last night and it painted the picture that the people are telling us every day - the detentions, the intimidation - it gave the situation life.”

“I know. And I’m fine, really. It was just unexpected - I didn’t feel prepared to answer their questions and I think that was my fault,” Anne mumbles, wiping the stray tear from her cheek. With a shaking exhale she shifts and looks towards the ceiling, centering herself. “I’m fine. They didn’t do anything and I got my stories. That’s what’s important.” 

 

“Indeed. Well, if you need to rest anymore today, or you need someone to talk to, please let me know. HQ will be contacting you at 13:00, alright? Be sure to take their call.” 

 

Anne nods and turns in her chair to face her computer, opening her email and reading through the new messages until she’s steady enough to get back down to work. 

 

“Hey Anne-girl,” a soothing voice breaks into her consciousness sometime later and she looks up to see Gilbert standing in the door of the admin tent, a wide smile on his face. Getting to her feet, Anne looks around the empty space with surprise as he steps inside, pulling her to him in a hug that tethers her back on earth.

 

“Gil,” she murmurs, her face pressed against his chest as his hands hold her tightly. 

 

“I heard you had a rough day yesterday,” he whispers, leaning back so he can look at her more closely. His eyes search hers for a moment before she cuddles back into him, seeking his steadiness. 

 

“It was fine. I’m back here now, with you.” Her answer drifts around them and he sighs, placing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it? I’ve got some time before lunch break is over.” Shaking her head, she steps back and links her fingers with his. 

 

“I’d rather we just go get some lunch. I know how upset you get when you don’t eat properly,” she chides, shooting him a smart look that causes him to laugh. 

 

“Oh how well you have come to know me. But Miss Anne, I think you’ve forgotten my favourite way of greeting?” He tugs her hand and leans down to capture her lips with his, the chaste kiss making her body thrum as she lifts her hands to his chin to steady herself. “That’s much better…” he stills, grasping at her arms as his brow furrows. “What is this? I didn’t know you were hurt too.” 

 

His light mood dissipates and his expression shutters as he sees the marks on her wrists, the cuts from the plastic bindings bright red in the day’s light. Slowly, he lifts her wrists closer for inspection, his fingers carefully brushing along the marks. 

 

“It’s nothing,” she says quietly, attempting to pull herself free from his grip. He reluctantly lets her go, giving her the space she needs to process the moment despite the concern that floods him. 

 

“Anne,” he whispers, voice tight. “Why didn’t you come find me yesterday when you got back? I could have - ” 

 

“It’s not a big deal, Gil. I’ve got it under control,” she lies, her voice shaking. 

 

“Oh, Anne-girl…” His eyes close and he holds out his arms, exhaling when she steps into his embrace. His breath slides against her ear, steady and comforting, and before she realizes it she’s letting loose more tears, relief filling her as his arms tighten and hold her to him. They stand there for a time, rocking on their feet until she’s once more dried her eyes and is able to pull back from him. 

 

“Let’s get some lunch. I don’t want this to be how we spend our last few days,” she states and watches as he nods, reluctantly agreeing to go against his better judgement. If he had his way they’d spend the lunch break talking through everything, making sure she was processing the situation so that it wouldn’t haunt her the way some of his co-workers were haunted. But he didn’t press it - he had to believe that she knew what she could handle - and so he let her take the lead if only because they only had two more nights before he left and neither of them were ready or willing to speak of the change that would come then. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! I think I've sorted out the rest! Now to keep plugging away on my other stories... Thank you all for following along and being so lovely!

Her muscles ache from the encounter in the camp and her hunched over posture in the admin tent, the hours of sitting and typing finally getting the best of her. Lifting her arms up in a stretch she groans, slumping down in her chair to stare at the work before her. Her mind was blank, the words struggling to come to her now that she’d poured herself out so fully onto paper for the last few hours. 

 

A walk. She needed a walk. 

 

Locking her computer and getting to her feet, Anne escapes from the admin tent and starts her regular route towards the edge of the fence. Often times back home when the writing stalled and her thoughts turned to mush she would venture out into the wild, slipping through blooming fields or orchestratic forests for a change of scenery. They were the places where she felt uncaged, like the person she was meant to be where all her imaginings and dreams could finally come to fruition. 

 

While she couldn’t have the freedom here that she craved from back home, she found herself willing to make due as she wandered along the edge of the orange fencing and tried to lose herself in the wilderness just outside their camp. It was peaceful here, the sounds of the trees and the distant rumble of life nearby kept her company as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. 

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was missing dinner as she tucked herself into the corner of the fence, surrounded on two sides by nature and the feeling of calmness that that brought. She didn’t care in the least about the rumble in her belly - snacks could be found later - but this moment of stillness could disappear at any time and she didn’t want to miss it. 

 

“I thought I might find you here,” Gilbert says quietly, drawing her gaze up to him with a soft smile. “The girls said you like to come out here when you can’t write. Figured that’s why you didn’t come to dinner.” 

 

“Mmm, true,” she replies and lifts a hand to grip his fingers, tugging them gently to bring him down beside her. He takes her hands in his lap and runs his thumbs over her marks, careful to keep his touch light. 

 

“Any particular reason for escaping?” He asks, shifting to glance at her as her detainment in the camp hovers at the back of his consciousness. He wouldn’t prod it, he’d decided that afternoon, but instead he’d watch for the signs that maybe it was still affecting her, just in case. 

 

“My mind is toast. I’ve been at it for most of the last 24. I needed a break,” she admits with a yawn, leaning against his shoulder. 

 

“If you wanted to catch a nap, I could keep watch for a bit,” he offers. With a grin she shifts until she’s spread out across the grass, her head in his lap. His fingers drift into her hair, pulling it out of its bun and running through it gently enough to lull her to sleep. 

 

When she wakes later the sun is fully set and beams of spotlight cut through the trees to dapple the ground around her. Above her Gilbert snores softly, his too-tall frame leaning back into the fence webbing. In a moment of quiet curiosity she lifts her fingers to graze the stubble on his chin her eyes watching as he sighs and captures her hand in his grasp, holding it tight to his chest. 

 

“Maybe we should head to bed,” he rasps, slowly coming around to the world of the living. Anne sits up beside him and pulls her hair over her shoulder, watching as his head rolls towards her. “You look lovely in this light, Anne-girl. Almost like I’m still dreaming.” 

 

“Lucky for you, this is real life,” she counters playfully and then leans forward to capture his lips with hers. When she pulls back he lets her go with a groan, his eyelids heavy with sleep and want. “Come on, Gil. Let’s go build a nest to hide in until tomorrow. We’ll start fresh then.” 

 

He trails behind her silently, his fingers linked with hers as she leads them back to his tent. Inside she chuckles, feeling him come up against her back. 

 

“I see you didn’t bother to put your bed back together,” she says as he closes the zip behind them and discards his scrub top. She mirrors his action, stripping down to her underwear and then spreading out on the sheets across the tent floor. 

 

“Why would I when I had such hopes?” He counters and settles down beside her, his gaze slipping over her appreciatively. Her breath catches as his palm rests on her hip, the warmth spreading out from his touch. 

 

“What do you plan on doing when you get back home?” She asks as the quiet floats around them, his thumb circling and soothing her as she cuddles closer. 

 

“The first thing? Probably collapsing into my bed in my apartment. Maybe eating a salad. Oh, a caesar salad, with real bacon. And a beer. Definitely that,” he laughs and watches as she closes her eyes, imagining it. 

 

“That would be good. Although I think I’d want some of Marilla’s plum puffs first.” 

 

“I’ve never had them but I bet they’re good, based on the look that just came over your face.” She groans and covers her face, relenting when he tugs her hand away. “Tell me more about home for you. What awaits you on that Island when you get back?” 

 

“A tiny apartment in a tiny city - Charlottetown. It’s perfect for just me but I spend a lot of time not at home if I can help it. Before I came Marilla promised that when I got back I’d go spend some time at the farm - “ 

 

“Oh yes, the farm,” he interjects, his eyes lighting up. “I was a farmboy myself, you know. Out in Alberta with my Dad.” 

 

“And now you’re a big city doctor, solving all the ills of the world. How people change!” His laughter fills the space and he shakes his head, a curious look in his eye. 

 

“I’m not, not really. It’s a small practice that serves a lot of the immigrant community which I think is why they keep sending me places like this. I’ve got a good bedside manner with a language barrier, I guess. Tell me more about this magical place.“ 

 

“The farm. Yes, well. When I was adopted out I had no idea where they were taking me. They lived on this rural farm and it was so beautiful the first time I went there I thought maybe it was heaven. There’s this road towards it - the trees border it on both sides and in the spring when it’s blooming… I call it the White Way of Delight.” Her voice dips as she thinks of home, a faraway look coming to her face. 

 

“And so you’ll go there, when you get home?” He prods, his body inching closer to bring her up against his chest. With a yawn and a nod, she twists into his embrace and settles, his mind easing as she relaxes against him. 

 

“Yes. At least for a few days. It’ll help me focus better when it’s time to actually start writing this thing. Green Gables always did warm me up to telling tales,” she whispers dreamily. With a press of his lips to her temple he lets the conversation die out, sleep coming quickly for them.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe they let you through the airport with this,” Anne sighs, reading through her handful of cards as Diana pours her another drink. Beside her Gilbert leans over her shoulder, sneaking a glance at her cards as Ruby decides on the next hand. “Hey - cheater!” She mumbles and knocks her elbow against his lightly. 

 

“You have to play this one with that card,” he says lowly, his hand dropping to her thigh as Ruby sets down a card that reads  _ Money can’t buy me love, but it can buy me _______ _ . 

 

Anne looks down at the card he’s tapped and shoots a surprised look towards him, her mouth agape. “No - that’s not even true!” 

 

Somehow the game of  _ Cards Against Humanity _ had dealt her a powerhand of redheaded cards, the selection coming up more often for her than anyone at the table. Gilbert’s instance that she lay down her  _ A redhead whose carpet matches the drapes _ card makes her cheeks flush and she slips the card under the table towards him, a cackle bursting from her as he tucks it safely in his breast pocket. 

 

“Best place for it,” he adds with a crooked smile, his eyes sparkling. 

 

Their last night together had come too quickly for her liking. No sooner had they found an easy rhythm together then they now had to go it alone - Gilbert was heading home and she still had over a week of meetings left with the local organizations before she could wrap up. They’d tried to avoid truly thinking about it and when Billy had suggested that they play cards and have a few drinks Anne had leapt at the opportunity to try to distract her from the impending change. 

 

“Anne - it’s your turn to select a card,” Diana instructs, her eyes blinking quickly as she looks away from the pair. Anne could sense the woman’s emotions hovering just under the surface, threatening to spill over into their game night so she did what she could to rouse the game forward. 

 

“Oh, dear!” Ruby squeals as Diana plays a particularly harsh hand, the nurse’s fingers coming up to her lips in surprise. Around the table the group breaks into chaotic laughter, the alcohol and the faux-pas of the card combinations finally breaking the mood. 

 

“You two - you should just go!” Diana whispers conspiratorially as the group breaks for more snacks, her eyes wide as she looks between Anne and where Gilbert stands in the kitchen with Billy. 

 

“We can’t! What would everyone think of us?” Anne counters, rolling her eyes as the woman huffs with frustration. 

 

“Alright everyone! I’m taking my game and going to bed. Fred will be calling me soon and you hooligans have liquored me up enough to maybe turn it into a video chat!” Diana calls aloud, her arms spanning the table and sliding the cards towards her. Anne watches as Diana winks towards her and begins to clean up, bidding goodnight to the group and leaving Anne alone at the plastic table. 

 

“Well, that ended quickly,” Gilbert states as he settles back into the chair beside her, his arm coming to rest around her shoulders. 

 

“You could argue she was going for divine intervention,” Anne whispers and lifts her hand in goodnight to the others who slowly drift back towards their tents. Gilbert’s fingers play with the hair at the nape of her neck, his gaze locked on the side of her face and nearly burning a mark into her skin. “Tonight was my chance to make friends other than  _ you _ , Doctor Blythe, and now that chance is gone!” 

 

“Come now, you know you’re not here without friends. Diana is particularly loyal, if you ask me. Not many friends would play wingman so boldly.” Her eyes glance towards him and her breath catches in her lungs. The look that covers his face is wanting, yes, but underneath it she sees something else that makes her heart skip. Her gaze drops abruptly to the table as the wave of emotion hits her, his hand gentle as he lifts her chin back up to his. “Don’t shy away now, Anne-girl. I think we’ve finally found our familiarity.” 

 

His kiss is soft, sweet, and she leans into him as the sounds from the generators and the roadway drift among the quiet evening atmosphere in the camp. 

 

“Must you go?” She whispers when he eventually pulls back, her eyes closed as she rests her head in the crook of his neck. 

 

“I must. But I promise we’ll figure it out. We’re resourceful and smart and you can talk your way into anything - “ 

 

“I cannot, that’s a false standard,” she sighs, laughter drawing her back to look at him once more. “Can we go to your tent now? I don’t want to waste any more time.” 

 

Her bold words make him grin and he stands quickly, pulling at her hand to practically drag her across the open space. Once inside the canvas shelter they collide, hands frantic as they strip each other down to nothing. The fever that overtakes them is blinding, their first coupling that month ago a mere shadow as he drags her to the floor and joins them together. 

 

They try to keep quiet - they try to bite their tongues and clap hands over mouths - but it only muffles the exclamations and gasps that fill the tiny space. Hands clasp, hips push, and it’s Anne’s teeth that draw the first moan as Gilbert’s body covers her on their makeshift bed. 

 

“Still biting, eh?” He breathes into her ear as she sits astride him, his fingers bruising her waist. 

 

“Only you,” she counters breathily, her pace turning painfully slow as he grumbles into her collar. “What’s that?” She chides and he stills her, his hands bracketing her face and drawing her gaze to his. 

 

“I said you don’t need to chew your way in,” he whispers, watching as her mind struggles with the concept. With a chuckle and a renewed urgency he twists until she’s on her back, his hand sliding softly along her jaw. “You already have a place inside me, Anne.” 

 

Her lips turn up in a blinding smile then, a bark of laughter bursting from her chest. “And you in me, quite literally,” she counters with a roll of her hips. 

 

“Good Lord, you’re filthy,” Gilbert hisses and reactively pushes himself as deep as he can go, his hand sliding down her calf to lift her leg wider. “But I appreciate it more than you know.” 

 

They don’t talk after that. Together they chase each other’s highs, hands and lips and skin sparking with sensation as they writhe on the tent floor. It’s Anne first who claws at the sheets, Gilbert’s fingers slipping between her lips as she comes apart around him. He follows soon after, his hips losing their measured strokes as he comes with a quiet cry into her shoulder. 

 

When eventually they come back to earth it’s with a playful mood that they clean up one another and finally tuck themselves into the sheets, cuddled together and staving off sleep for as long as they can. 

 

“I’ll see you when I get home, right?” Anne asks later, as Gilbert’s breathing evens out marking his sleep. She’d tried to ask earlier, had wanted to voice her fear that this was just a fling, but she hadn’t had the courage just yet. Now that he was finally asleep she could shake the words loose but it did no good, his returning silence making her kick herself until she was pulled into a restless sleep at his side. 

 

* * *

 

“And today is Doctor Blythe’s last day with us. We’d like to extend our deepest thanks to you, Gilbert, for always bringing a joke and a creative solution to the table. We’ve enjoyed having you here and will be sad to see you go. Your contributions were immeasurable and for that we thank you for giving your time and your skills to this good work,” Muriel announces and the table breaks into a round of applause. 

 

Anne tries to hold it together as she claps along, a smile forced to her lips. Gilbert lifts his hand in acknowledgement, his cheeks flushing as he looks around the group. 

 

“It’s been a pleasure, really,” he answers and shifts his gaze briefly towards Anne. He lets it drop before it becomes obvious, gripping his hands together on the table as the meeting resumes for the day’s assignments. 

 

When they break to head to their stations Anne drags her heels as members of the group bid their goodbyes, one by one giving a shake of the hand or a quick note of thanks to the man beside her. 

 

“They’re all quite sad to see you go, Mr Life of the Party,” Anne says when they’re finally alone, the toes of her shoes nearly touching his. Above her she hears him exhale forcibly, her eyes skirting up to his before looking away again. “I’m going to miss having you around to harass me every day.” 

 

His hand brushes against her elbow, his fingers squeezing gently before withdrawing. “Anne-girl,” he whispers, desperate to draw her attention up to him. She gives in and meets her gaze with his, a spark lighting between them and giving her pause. 

 

“I should get to work. Are you packing all day?” She queries, her voice shaking. She didn’t want to think about this. She wasn’t prepared. 

 

“I - yes. My shuttle leaves at five,” he replies, a hint of frustration in his voice as she withdraws. 

 

He was leaving. Getting on a plane and flying a world away from her. She didn’t want to think about it, not today. She’d think about it tonight, when he was already gone and she could be miserable in her tent alone. That’s when she would let her feelings have their way with her. But not now. Not when she still had to get through the rest of the day. 

 

“Okay,” she breathes, pressing her hand to her lips and giving him a final look. Without a goodbye she steps back and heads towards the clinic, forcing her mind to her work instead. 

 

The morning moves by in a daze, her mind distracted and unfocused as she sits in on meetings with the other organizations acting in the area.

 

“Are you going to say goodbye Anne?” Diana breaks into her thoughts, stumbling into the tent with a frown on her face. 

 

“What? What are you talking about?” She counters, confused as the woman steps towards her. 

 

“The shuttle is leaving! Did no one tell you?” Her words jumble together as Anne drops her clipboard and pushes past her, rushing towards the clinic entrance and falling into the roadway as the security guard hurries towards her. 

 

She looks up frantically, eyes wide as she takes in the grate of the van next to her face. 

 

“What are you doing?” The security guard chastises, yanking at her arm and pulling her to her feet. 

 

“I needed to catch the - “ 

 

“Are you alright?” Gilbert asks from behind her, his hands on her shoulders turning her around to face him. Concern mixes with a bittersweet happiness as his hands brush her hair and her cheek, checking her over with careful movements. “You nearly got yourself killed, bursting through the gate like that.” 

 

“You said your shuttle left at five!” Anne whispers, her eyes never leaving his and her voice cracking. “I thought I had more time.” 

 

“They changed the schedule because of the flights. I only found out like half an hour ago and I wasn’t done packing. I didn’t - I’m sorry, I didn’t have time,” he replies, his own voice hollow. 

 

“Sorry Doc - we’ve gotta get on the road.” The driver says from across the hood of the van. Anne’s expression tightens as she draws her emotions into her chest and holds on for dear life. Before her Gilbert grips her shirt in his fist, holding tightly to her as he exhales shakily. 

 

“This isn’t goodbye, Anne with an E,” Gilbert breathes, his eyes searching. “Finish your work here. Come back home. We’ll figure it out from there, okay?” 

 

“I don’t want you to go,” she murmurs and he laughs, his thumb brushing along her cheek affectionately. 

 

“I don’t want to leave either. But I have to. I’ll see you soon, Anne-girl,” he adds and pulls her into his embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around her in a bone-crushing hug. When he draws back she has to wipe away the stray tear that got away from her, a forced smile on her lips. 

 

He doesn’t say anything more as he slides into the back seat, his eyes focused on hers until he closes the door with a soft click. 

 

Gilbert’s shuttle disappears through the throngs of people and soon she can no longer see him and she’s left with the security guard at her side, his quiet presence keeping her company until she turns back into the clinic and steels herself for the next few hours. 

 

When evening comes Diana and Ruby keep her mind occupied throughout dinner, dragging her to the lounge for board games that the team has made a competition out of. She tries to enjoy it, forcing herself to smile and play along, but when it’s finally time to turn in she does so with a feeling of relief. 

 

Entering her small space after her shower she tidies up and then sits heavily on the cot, breathing through the emotions that wreck havoc inside of her. No longer able to fight them off she lays down, her hands curling under the pillow and coming up against something foreign. 

 

Her hands shake as she opens the envelope, the letters in Gilbert’s tight script spilling onto her lap as she laughs through her tears. 


	9. Chapter 9

Her remaining time in the camp passes by in a blink. She moves through her regular routine, sitting in meetings and working away on the computers to get more and more onto paper. In the evenings she eats with Diana and Ruby, getting lost in conversations with them and the funny stories they’ve come to bond over since arriving at the site. When Gilbert’s replacement arrives a few days later Anne sighs wistfully, remarking in a text to Gilbert that the man is old and already married. 

 

_ Does that mean I’m safe then? _ Gilbert asks, forcing a cackle from Anne’s throat. 

 

_ Regardless of who he was, I think you’d be safe. _

 

Their nightly chats stray into longer conversations, their text messages piling up as the days between them start to grow. 

 

_ Can I call you, Anne-girl? _ The message reads one evening as she checks her phone before she heads to the shower. 

 

_ In an hour. The shower is free right now so I’m seizing the moment _ . Her phone buzzes with the video chat and she laughs, answering it to see his bright expression fall. 

 

“Damn, I was hoping you were already there,” he quips, leaning back in his office chair and rubbing his face briskly. He looks tired, the pale colour of his scrubs doing nothing for the dark bags under his eyes. 

 

“Not yet, I was actually just about to head over,” she pauses, setting down the phone and collecting her things. Gilbert’s voice calls out to her and she tips the phone back towards her, a smile on her lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re at work and I doubt you could keep quiet long enough…” 

 

“Very true. Ugh. I wish you were here. I miss you,” he sighs, sitting forward and watching her picture move on the screen with a soft expression. 

 

“I miss you too. But your letter is keeping me company, so it’s like I have a part of you here with me.” 

 

“So it was a good thing to leave behind?” 

 

“Gil, it’s like having you here every night,” she says softly, thinking back to the moment she felt the envelope under her pillow. It had been a relief to open the pages, to read through his descriptions of home and the plans he proposed for her return. The words were hopeful and vibrant and she’d held them tightly as she moved from one page to the next.

 

When she’d reached the final paper she’d already been teary, unprepared for the kindness that poured from him. 

 

_ Anne-girl, _

 

_ It wasn’t chance that brought us together - I have to believe that it was fate. Chance wouldn’t have let us connect the way we have, like maybe we’re bound by something bigger than us both. I know it’s not just me that feels it, it can’t be. Even if we’re not together, I think we’re still with one another - I know at least that you’re always with me. The bite marks might fade but my memory of you stays fresh, I would bet on it.  _

 

_ It won’t be long before you’re home so I need you to stay strong until you are. Call me if things get tough. Don’t give up on this. On us. Come back home. Come find me when you do.  _

 

_ -Gil _

 

His words had given her the strength to get through the day and she’d only felt the importance of his presence on the mission after he was gone.

 

“Good. I don’t think I could handle you forgetting my wonderous self after only a few days,” he adds and she shakes her head, turning her attention back to her shower supplies. “How are you really doing? With everything?” 

 

She pauses and glances back towards the screen, her shoulders lifting in the low light. “Well enough - I had a pretty rough dream last night but it didn’t stick around so I figure that’s progress.” 

 

His brow furrows as he watches her turn away again, her expression tight. “You know you can tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, right?” 

 

“I know - I’ve got it under control though. Everyone keeps asking how I’m doing and I keep saying I’m fine,” she adds, pausing as she catches sight of his eyes darting up and away from his phone. 

 

“I’m sure you are but I still worry. We’re going to talk about this more but I’m sorry Anne-girl, duty calls. It was really good to see you.” 

 

“You too, Gil. Try to get some sleep tonight,” she requests and his eye roll makes her laugh, his head shaking slightly before the screen flickers and the screen signifying the end of the call appears. 

 

The tightness in her throat lessens as she leaves the device on her pillow, disappearing to the shower to rinse away the day’s dirt. When she returns the message she finds waiting for her on her phone makes her flush. A playful picture of Gilbert’s frame surrounded by steam with his hair in his eyes as water from a showerhead beats down on him. He’d been saving that one, she knew, and she appreciated it even more as she took in the sight of his wide smile. It was the one that gave her the most comfort, his open confidence and bright mood keeping her company while she eventually drifted off to sleep. 

 

\----

 

The airport is far too overwhelming, she thinks as she wanders off the plane and back into the real world. Her day and a half of travel have left her exhausted, her hair a mess and an almost noticeable smell emanating off of her as she walks dazedly towards the luggage carousel. She can’t wait to find Marilla at the arrivals area, waiting to take her back to Green Gables for a much needed break before she returns to her apartment in Charlottetown to get to work. 

 

Her luggage is last to arrive and she grudgingly pulls it onto her back before walking through customs and towards the sliding doors. Through the exit and into the mess of people, Anne pushes her way past the group towards a reserved woman standing near the pillars to her right. 

 

“Marilla!” She greets, pulling the woman against her and rocking them back and forth in hello. 

 

“You must be exhausted,” Marilla replies as she holds her hands to Anne’s cheeks. “But Matthew would be so proud of you and what you’re doing. Come, let’s go home.” 

 

Anne smiles even though her eyes burn, memories of Matthew causing her to fight through the nostalgia and follow Marilla out into the parking garage. 

 

It’s only a few minutes of stop and go traffic to get out of the airport corral before Anne finds herself falling asleep, the sleep deprivation finally catching up with her. Marilla looks on with a soft gaze, her hand brushing the girl’s hair affectionately before she focuses more clearly on the road ahead. 

 

When Anne awakes later that afternoon she’s tucked in her bed at Green Gables, the sheets pulled up to her chin as the evening light spills in through the window. Confused, she sits up and looks around her, wondering how she got here. She hadn’t walked - there was no recollection of that - and Marilla surely didn’t carry her here. 

 

She gets to her feet and pads towards the living room, familiar voices slinking their way up to her. Rachel and Marilla are in the kitchen, chatting and laughing over dinner preparations when Anne joins them.

 

“Anne! Oh my dear, it is good to see you!” Rachel greets, wiping her hands and coming over to give her a bone crushing hug. 

 

“It’s good to see you too, Rachel,” she answers and looks towards Marilla who smiles back at her. The woman’s eyes flicker towards the pantry and Anne pulls back, suspicious. “How did I - “

 

“Hi Anne.” The voice sends a jolt through her as she looks up and watches as Gilbert steps out of the pantry, an apron tied around his waist and his arms holding a bushel of potatoes. He looks like he’s lived here for years, like maybe this is his home and she’s only somehow stumbled into it. 

 

“How - how did you - “ she mumbles, surprised, confused. Happy. Beaming. 

 

“Facebook is a hell of a tool,” he replies and sets down the potatoes at the table, watching as she steps away from Rachel and towards him. Shaking her head, Anne stares at him almost as if in a haze, disbelief etched in her features. 

 

“I thought we were going to get together in Montreal but you said you were out of town!” She whispers as she comes toe-to-toe with him. He looks down at her with a small smile on his lips, eyes shining. Neither of them spare a care for the others in the room, their attention singularly focused on each other. 

 

“I was. I was coming here. Marilla said it was alright,” he answers softly, his hand lifting to brush her hair back from her face. 

 

“Marilla would never - “ 

 

“He’s a nice boy, Anne. And a doctor,” Rachel interjects quickly and Anne comes back to herself, turning to face the women with reddened cheeks. “You’d be hard pressed to find another, with all that globetrotting you do. Don’t be a fool.” 

 

Her biting words cause Anne to put her hands over her face as Marilla shushes the other woman. Beside her Gilbert rests a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. In a rush she grabs his arm and drags him out of the kitchen and into the yard, her feet carrying her away from him as the wind whips up around them. 

 

“I can’t believe - how did you get here?” She asks breathlessly, turning back to look at him with her hands on her hips. She didn’t know whether she was thrilled to see him or annoyed that he hadn’t told her before he’d made his plans. Shock was still echoing through her and causing her rash thoughts to surface. 

 

“Well, I messaged Rachel and she gave me Marilla’s number. It was pretty easy to explain that we were friends and that I wanted to come welcome you home. Rachel was more than happy to have me come,” he adds and shrugs, watching as she paces back and forth before him. “Are you mad I’m here?” 

 

Anne stills at his words, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “Mad? Gil, no,” she answers quietly, glancing up at him. “I’m not mad at all. I’m… God, what am I?” 

 

“If you’re not mad then, can we say hello properly?” He breathes and inches closer so that when she flings her arms around his neck he’s able to pull her close and crash his lips into hers. When they’re both breathless, their hands holding each other close, Anne laughs and rests her head on his chest to feel the beat of his heart. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” she sighs, rocking in his embrace as his hands lift to her cheeks. 

 

“I’ve missed you too, Anne-girl. It isn’t the same now.” His eyes lock on hers, searching as the moment draws out. “Can we actually make a go of this? Montreal isn’t far from Charlottetown.” 

 

“I’m willing to try if you are,” she answers carefully, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

 

“Thank god. I had no idea how I was going to convince you if you said no. You’ve bewitched me,” he whispers as his thumb drags across her cheek. “I have to warn you, I’m only here for the night. I’ve gotta get back for work. But when you’re ready, I’d like if you came to see me in Montreal. I’ll get the ticket so you don’t have the worry about that - “ 

 

“I have to get to work myself. I’ve got deadlines on this book - “ 

 

“There’s a place in my apartment - it’s got great light, you can work there if - I mean only if you want - I know this is a lot and maybe I’m definitely getting ahead of myself,” he chuckles as she rests her forehead against his chest, her fingers twisting in the tail of his shirt. 

 

“It’s so tempting. I’ll come for a weekend, we can start there?” She offers before glancing back up at him. His grin is so bright that she’s nearly blinded, his lips ducking down to meet hers in a kiss that makes her toes curl. 

 

“That sounds perfect. God, I’m happy to see you.”

 

“Me too Gil, you’ve no idea,” she answers softly. 

 

\----

 

Under strict orders form Marilla, Anne leaves Gilbert that night at the door to Matthew’s old room, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling as she scurries back upstairs to her room. In bed she lay restless, turning under her covers and trying to stifle the broad grin that covers her face. 

 

Gilbert was here. It hadn’t been a blip or all in her head. He must have felt something too, that connection that kept drawing her back to him. Their time together on mission hadn’t been a fluke like she’d feared and now he was  _ here _ . There was promise in that, she had to believe it. 

 

With a huff she flops onto her back and lifts her arms over her head so that she can stare at the ceiling. The small buzz of her phone alerts her to the message and she turns to read it, a swift exhale escaping from her. 

 

_ I can’t stop thinking about you up in that gable room.  _

 

Her cheeks burn as she types out her reply, the edge of her willpower holding taunt. 

 

_ What are you thinking about? _

 

The ellipses appear and she waits, lip between her teeth as she watches the screen. The small knock at her door nearly forces a scream from her throat and she sits up abruptly, her hands clasped over her mouth. 

 

“It’s just me,” Gilbert whispers as he steps into her room and closes the door behind him. He moves softly across the creaking boards, settling on the edge of her bed near her feet. “I understand Marilla’s rules, Anne, I’m not here for that,” he chides as she sits gulping air, words alluding her. “Do you mind me being here? In your room?” 

 

She shakes her head and shifts so that he can move to sit beside her, his arm reaching around to draw her close to his chest. “How do you always know what I need without me saying anything, Gil?” Anne asks with her hand splayed across his chest. His fingers graze along her arm, trailing gooseflesh where they touch. 

 

“I don’t know - I guess maybe I’m selfishly acting on what I need and it just so happens to involve you,” he chuckles and she scoffs, glancing up at him. “What can I say? I’m needy!” 

 

“You are not! We’re two wholly independent adults who - “ 

 

“Happen to be drawn together?” 

 

“Yes,” she breathes as he meets her eyes, his finger lifting to brush along her jaw. 

 

“Now that I have you to myself, how are you really doing since coming home?” His soft question makes her sigh and she shrugs slightly. 

 

“I’m okay. I mean, it’s barely been a day and I’ve slept through most of it, so I don’t really know at this point. How are you doing? Are you adjusting back okay?” 

 

“About the same. I actually, um, accessed the support network they offer the first few days. I wasn’t back to work yet and I was struggling with the accident a bit - “ 

 

“You never mentioned that, Gil,” she interrupts, watching him keenly as he shifts under her gaze. 

 

“I know. I didn’t want to burden you with it while you were still there though and dealing with your own stuff. It seemed unnecessary to put that on you too. Regardless, I’m doing better now.” He answers and feels himself relax as she lifts her palm to his cheek. 

 

“You can tell me when you’re not doing well, you know that, right?” Her voice is soft as she says it, her eyes watching as he closes his eyes with a nod. 

 

“I will. I even promise to, if you do the same?” She nods at that, her heart thumping in her chest as the worries abate for the moment. “You feel this, right? This strange pull between us?” 

 

“I think I do. I thought it was just me at first but I hoped…” His lips find hers in a soft kiss, one that asked for no more than either of them could give. When he draws back eventually, her hands tangled in his curls, it’s with heavy lidded eyes that she draws him down beside her, their too big frames wrapping together on the tiny bed from her childhood. 

 

Waking to the still light of the morning Anne smiles as she takes in the sight of him in his sleep. He looks peaceful, a small smile on his mouth and his brow smooth from worries. She takes the chance to run her thumb across it, sighing as his arms tighten around her and she stills at the feel of him pressing into her hip, hard and insistent. 

 

“Gil,” she whispers, her lips grazing his as he moans and pulls her closer. 

 

“Five more minutes,” he rasps. Anne shivers with his breath on her neck, her fingers trailing along his jaw and down to his shoulder, his arm and his hip. When she drops her hand between them to brush against his length he groans and shifts against her touch, seeking more as her name slips from his lips. 

 

She takes the sound as acceptance and wraps a leg over his thigh, shifting until he’s flush against her and his exhales have stuttered against her skin. 

 

“Anne-girl,” he hisses as her nails scrape against the skin of his side. “This is the best dream of my life. The very best.” 

 

She laughs and nuzzles into his neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive place she’s learned draws a flush to his skin. His hands splay across her back and his hips rock forward, a soft sound of surprise escaping from her throat as she glances up to see him watching her. 

 

“We shouldn’t,” he murmurs, stilling her hips with his hand though she can see how much it pains him to do so. 

 

“The rooster hasn’t crowed - she’ll still be dead asleep. I promise it’s okay,” Anne replies quickly, running her fingers along the edge of his pyjama pants. 

 

“I didn’t come here just for this,” he groans and lifts his hands to bracket her face, drawing her attention back to him. “I wanted to say that. Just so you know.” 

 

“I thought we established that yesterday?” She questions to his growing smile, his lips finding hers in a kiss that steals her breath. With a renewed fervor she pulls at the elastic of his pants and forces them down until he’s exposed to her touch, his moan swallowed by her kiss as her hand grips him steadily. 

 

His hands make quick work of pulling her nightshirt up so that he can slip his fingers between her legs, her hips jerking as they move between her folds. 

 

“Were we having the same dream?” He growls as she shifts herself into position, teasing him with her wetness. “Am I actually in a dream right now?” Gilbert sighs as she joins them, his body abruptly pushing to fill her. His hands hold tight to her waist, his forehead ducking to rest on her shoulder as his breathing stumbles. 

 

They lay there together for a drawn out moment, hearts racing as eventually he looks up and meets her gaze, that searching look returning to his eyes as slowly he starts to move inside her. 

 

All the frantic times before, the times to catch the release, to forget what was happening around them, pale in comparison to the way they shift and press together now. Soft moans and seeking hands hold them closer, their skin rubbing in a sweet friction that drives her upward and moves her closer to the peak with every quick breath and flexed fingers. 

 

“I’m so close, Anne,” he gasps as his hips start to lose their pacing, one palm holding the back of her neck and the other biting into her lower back. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispers in return, her lips sliding against his temple as she staves off the feeling that’s starting to crash into her. His strangled moans, low in her ear, make her skin flush and she clings to him as best she can, taking everything he’ll give to her in that moment. When finally he stills, his heart hammering against his ribs, she allows herself to exhale and holds him tightly in her embrace.

 

“You feel like home,” he mumbles into her ear, his thrusts slow as he starts to soften and eventually slips from her. She takes his words and tucks them away, stealing a kiss from him as his eyes flicker open to watch her. With careful movements he reaches between them and finds her center once more, unable to leave her wanting. His hands draw sounds from her lips as his fingers press and circle, dipping inside as she shifts against him. 

 

Her chest heaves as he urges her upward, chasing that high that’s just out of reach. When finally she comes her words are captured by his mouth, the echo of a rooster outside her window signifying that their time was nearly up. 

 

With his hand between her legs and gentle kisses trailed across her jaw, Anne comes back to herself and sighs, reality swooping back in. “You should go now - they’ll be up soon.” 

 

“I know, I know. Just give me a second to enjoy this and then I’m going to go start breakfast to make them fall in love with me before I leave. You’ll come down soon?” He adds, pausing before shifting to carefully untangle himself and pull his pants back into place. His hands run quickly through his hair, smoothing it down from the frayed clumps she’d tugged it into throughout the night. She watches him with a smile, her own body still buzzing. 

 

“Of course - your flight is early too, isn’t it?” Gilbert stumbles as though just now remembering he had to leave. The look that crosses his features makes her chest ache and she sits up, reaching for his shoulders and drawing him back in for a quick kiss. “Go make breakfast. I’ll be down to help you as soon as I get dressed. We won’t waste a minute.” 

 

He turns on his heel and tip-toes down the stairs, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards as Anne listens to him go. She gets to her feet and starts to dress as she hears Rachel and Marilla come alive, shuffling around in their rooms and eventually Rachel’s heavy gait descending the stairs. Below her the sounds of the kitchen echo up through the hallway, the morning greetings bringing a bright smile to her face. 

 

Time passes too quickly that morning and soon Anne is standing at the edge of the gate as Gilbert pulls her into his arms, his lips stealing a chaste kiss from her. “Let me know when you want to come visit and I’ll - “ 

 

“Now? Can I come now?” She whispers to his returning chuckle, his hands rubbing her shoulders. 

 

“You need to start that book first, Anne-girl. You need to tell their stories. Then come find me. I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” With a sigh she pulls him to her, tucking her head under his jaw and nodding. 

 

“Travel safe, Gil,” she bids as he drops into his seat and closes the door. The car rumbles to a start and she steps back, her hand lifted in a dejected wave. She doesn’t expect the door to open again or the man to step back out, drawing her once more to him in a tight hug.

 

“I didn’t get to do this before I got on a plane last time and I regretted it. I’ll see you soon,” he adds before reaching to press his lips to hers in a kiss that holds nothing back. When he finally breaks away he gives her a slanted grin, a spark in his eye as he slips back into his car. 

 

He doesn’t stop again before taking off towards the road, disappearing into the distance as a stunned Anne stands with her fingers pressed to her lips. 

 

“That boy sure is something,” Marilla breaks into her thoughts, the older woman’s arm coming to wrap around Anne’s shoulders. “Before you got here he couldn’t stop beaming about you. It was really quite sweet.” 

 

“He took care of me over there. I think he’s actually one of the good ones,” she agrees, letting the older woman steer them back towards the house. 

 

“You know, it’s a bit too fanciful for me, but Rachel thinks that boy is your soulmate or some other foolishness. While I may not believe in notions like that, I would agree there’s something between you two that is rare - you lit up when you saw him with that sack of potatoes. I haven’t seen you smile like that since the day you signed into the family bible,” Marilla adds, pausing at the porch to look down at her charge who was now a bright young woman. “If he makes you happy, Anne, be sure not to squander it.” 

 

“I won’t, Marilla, I promise,” Anne states and pulls the woman in for a tight hug, her thoughts spinning as she sees the possibilities before her opening doors long thought closed. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes - two more chapters after this! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this so far! You're all wonderful people!

Texting, Skyping, talking by phone - none of this held a candle to seeing Gilbert at the arrivals gate of the Montreal airport, his hair askew and his smile wide as she walked through the sliding doors. 

 

“You made it,” he states as she comes to stand before him, her bright eyes looking up at him as he reaches to take her bags. 

 

“What, no hello?” She prods with a laugh, her hands settling on her hips as he sighs and drops her bags, gathering her up against his chest and pressing a kiss to her lips that makes her knees weak. “That’s more like it,” she breathes when he steps back, grabbing her things from the floor and reaching to take her hand in his. He leads her dazed form out of the airport and through the mess of parking stalls towards his car, opening the door for her before storing her things in the trunk. 

 

The leather seats are warmed and she sighs as he gets in, turning to stare at her as she rubs her hands on her knees. Her nerves are frayed, unsure of how she should act now that they were actually together with no one to judge them, no duties to complete, no outside forces to get in their way. It was just them. 

 

“I can’t believe - Anne, you look…” He shakes his head and grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. 

 

“What Gil?” she chides, her laughter stilling in her throat as he looks back towards her. 

 

“I want to put my hands all over you like a crazy person to make sure you’re real and not just a figment of my imagination. But to do that I need to get us home and the traffic is terrible here and I need to focus,” he shifts nervously as she presses her hands into her lap. 

 

“Pretend I’m not even here. I’ll be quiet so you can focus.” 

 

“That won’t solve it.” His eyes bore into hers and she grins wickedly, lifting across the console to grip his lapels and pull him to her. It only lasts a second, just long enough for his hands to leave bruises on her hips, before she sits back and stares up at him. 

 

“Now you remember just how precious this cargo is, Doctor Blythe. Let’s go.” He exhales forcefully and turns the car on, peeling out of the parking garage and onto the roads with a precision that tells of his need, his desperate focus. 

 

She doesn’t know how long it usually takes but she’s sure he’s clipped off a few minutes in the commute as he pulls into an underground garage and parks the car in a labelled spot. They find each other in the elevator as he corners her and runs his fingers into her hair, his lips crashing into hers and demanding entry. When the bell alerts their arrival to his floor he drags himself away, pulling the straps of her bag onto his shoulder and stalking out of the lobby and down the hall. His fingers deftly turn the key in the lock and he holds open the door for her, his smile wide as she slips past him and into his kitchen. 

 

She barely has a moment to orient herself before his hands are on her, lifting her until her legs wrap around his hips and he walks them towards his bedroom. Hastily they undress, their mouths seeking as hands busy with shucking the garments that keep them separated. When he slides into her, hard and heavy, she yelps at the intrusion and then groans as his hands find her breasts, squeezing and drawing her upward. 

 

His thrusts are rough and needy and she welcomes it, twisting them until she’s on top, her hips rolling as he runs his palms across her skin. The pace is quickened and she can feel herself climbing too fast, her pants forcing her to lean over him as he pulls her hair loose and groans. 

 

“Anne,” he gasps, his fingers finding her center and making her whimper with his ministrations. Her hips buck and she crests, her inner walls tightening as the moan escapes her. His demanding movements slow to a controlled pace as he feels her come apart, his hands drawing her lips back to his for a brusque kiss that he eventually drags down to her chest. 

 

Once her breathing has slowed again he shifts and rolls them until he’s kneeling above her, her legs splayed on either side of his hips. She feels him close to her and opens her eyes to find him an inch away, his lips trailing from her temple to her chin. 

 

“Anne-girl, you feel - “ She silences him with her mouth, her nails scraping along his sides and down to his backside. 

 

“Don’t hold back, Gil,” Anne whispers into his ear and he nearly comes apart at that, her sultry voice urging him to move. Not one to disappoint he pushes himself onward and picks up his pace, deepening his thrusts each time. His arms slide to hook behind her knees, opening her up so he can drive himself deeper. 

 

He doesn’t last long after that, the frantic pace and the sounds she makes as he rocks into her bring him to the edge and he topples over it, a broken groan crackling out of him as he comes apart. 

 

The sweat dries on their skin before they’re able to move from their place on his bed. Anne is the first one to stand on shaky legs, nervous laughter bubbling from her as she opens doors until she finds the bathroom. When she returns Gilbert has tidied up and laid out a shirt for her, his lithe frame already in the kitchen pulling together a plate of food. 

 

“Well, that was a hell of a welcome,” she states as she leans in the doorway, watching as he moves between the cupboards clad only in a pair of sweatpants. 

 

“Sorry - I meant to be better about this,” he admits and ducks his head as a flush rises up his neck. 

 

“I liked it, actually. It’s what I’ve wanted to do to you every day since the airport,” she responds and comes to sit on the stool at his countertop. He leans across the distance and she meets him halfway, an easy kiss by way of greeting. 

 

“Hi,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling. 

 

“Hi back,” she replies and feels her own cheeks redden at the situation. She was out of her depth here but somehow with Gilbert things felt different - she didn’t feel like what she was doing was wrong. It felt normal to sit here in one of his button-ups, watching as he puttered around his bright kitchen, his hair mussed from her fingers. 

 

“Let me just put this in the oven and then I’ll give you the tour,” Gilbert instructs, lifting a ceramic dish off the stove and then turning to face her with a wide grin. “This - this is the kitchen. Obviously.” 

 

Coming around the island he takes her hand and leads her towards his bedroom, showing her each of the doors she’d already opened and joking about making sure she didn’t pee in his closet one night. Her light slap is caught and brought to his lips, his eyes alight as he turns them back towards the kitchen. 

 

“This is the living room. TV, balcony, you know, the essentials. And this is where you can work or, if you need to get away from me, a room just for you. I was using it for storage before so excuse some of the mess but - “ 

 

Anne turns around looking at the bright space with its high ceilings and hardwood floors, the wooden desk tucked into the windows’ alcove and the daybed setup with pillows and blankets, inviting her to daydream the hours away. “This is beautiful, Gil,” she whispers, at a loss for the way her heart skips in her chest. 

 

“I wanted it to be comfortable for you. I do, unfortunately, have to work tomorrow but I’ll leave you the key so you can wander the city. Treat this like a vacation or a workation, whatever you need. I’m just happy to be able to see you,” he adds, his arms settling on her shoulders as she looks up at him. 

 

“I think I could get used to this,” she sighs and rests her head against his chest, her arms looping around his waist. Together they shift in a silent dance, relaxing in each others embrace. 

 

Had anyone asked her if this is where she’d be a year ago she would have laughed them out of the room, her head had been so far in the clouds with her writing that this possibility - love, or something like it - had been unheard of. Now as she held tightly to Gilbert, a half-written non-fiction story on her laptop, she realized the mission had been more than just a new writing opportunity. It had been the break she needed to change her life and a chance encounter in the airport had given her something she hadn’t realized she needed. 

 

“Would you mind terribly if you had to share me tonight? I may have been forced to invite Mary and Bash over for dinner,” he asks eventually when they return to the kitchen to pick at the food he’s set out. 

 

“You mean - here? You want me to meet them?” She counters, her voice wavering. She wasn’t ready to meet his family, that was too big a step, wasn’t it?

 

“Yes - I mean, they want to meet you. We usually do Sunday dinners together anyways, just this time you’re here,” he adds and lifts his shoulders in a shrug, trying to downplay the weight of his request. “I can always cancel if - “

 

“No - no, Gil, don’t cancel. I would be happy to meet them. Do I need to - should I go get something? Wine or dessert or - “ He smiles and shakes his head, halting her questions with his lips. 

 

“You don’t need to do anything, Anne. I’ve got it all taken care of. They’re going to love you,” Gilbert finishes, resting his forehead against hers and stilling her anxious hands in her lap. “Now, let’s eat some of this and we’ll go for a walk. I want to show you a park down the road that I think you’ll like.” 

 

* * *

 

With Gilbert’s hands up her shirt and her hair a mess around her face, Anne meets Bash and Mary as they let themselves into the apartment without warning. Her skin flushes bright and with a squeak she sits up, knocking Gilbert’s large frame onto the floor with a thump that’s drowned out with apologies and raucous laughter. 

 

“Sorry! We’ll just - we’ll knock!” Mary shouts, covering her eyes and pushing her husband through the door as he starts to make jokes at their expense. 

 

“Oh my God, oh dear lord,” Anne repeats, scrambling from the couch and into the spare room before closing the door with a snap. Gilbert is quick to follow, getting to his feet and first ducking his head into the hallway.

 

“Can you guys go for a walk? You’re early,” he scolds, watching as Mary tries to stifle her laughs. 

 

“Yes, of course. But be sure to tell her that we’ve all been there!” Bash shouts loud enough so Anne can hear it through the apartment, his chuckles fading as footsteps echo down the hallway. 

 

“Anne, I’m sorry,” Gilbert says through the door between them, his hand hovering over the handle. He wanted to go in, to reassure her, but he also knew she likely needed some space and he could give her that. “They weren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Otherwise I wouldn’t - “ 

 

“They’re going to hate me!” Anne moans, opening the door abruptly and looking up at him with fearful eyes. “My first impression with them isn’t carrying sacks of potatoes or showing up in my best ‘I’m Gilbert Blythe, MD’! It’s ‘I’m Anne Shirley Cuthbert, Handsy and Horny’!” 

 

“Come on now,  _ I  _ was the one with my hands in questionable places,” he groans, stepping into the room as she retreats to flop on the daybed. 

 

“I think I’m going to die of embarrassment, Gil.” 

 

“Stop - it’s not that bad. Do you know how many times  _ I’ve _ walked in on them in compromising positions?” He chuckles and stretches out next to her, his hand settling over her stomach as she looks at him pointedly and pushes him away. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. They’re going to love you because I do, that’s all you need to remember.” 

 

“It’s too soon to say that,” she whispers, covering her face with her hands. He pulls them away and leans over her, heat pouring off him. 

 

“Then don’t think about it,” he counters, his fingers tracing along her jaw. She sighs and glances up at him, taking in his steady gaze and the feel of him so close to her. 

 

“Fine. I’ve faced off against men with guns. This shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just pull myself together with the thought that at least I don’t have to try to hide  _ this _ .” Her hand slides below his waist and brushes across the front of his jeans, causing his hips to jerk reactively. 

 

With a groan he drops his forehead to her shoulder and exhales shakily. “They’re killing me. You’re killing me. Everything is killing me. Can it just be bedtime already?” 

 

“Nope. We’re suffering through this dinner together. I’m going to go get ready before they come back. You do what you need to but make sure I don’t have to face them alone!” She instructs, pushing herself back to her feet and stalking towards the door. 

 

When Bash and Mary return half an hour later it’s with tongue-in-cheek smiles, their eyes alight with mirth as Gilbert and Anne welcome them back into the apartment and the group of them stand awkwardly in the kitchen. 

 

“So, let’s just get this out of the way now. Anne, we’ve only heard good things about you. We’re going to pretend like we just got here and go from there, okay?” Mary offers tentatively, reaching out her hand. “I’m Mary Lacroix and this is Bash, the reason Gilbert has picked up all of his questionable habits over the years - “ 

 

“Hey! Don’t sully me like that, I can handle that quite well on my own!” Bash interjects, knocking his wife’s hand out of the way playfully and pulling Anne into his embrace. She goes with surprise in her expression, returning the man’s hug lightly before stepping back to Gilbert’s side. 

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you both. Sorry about - “ 

 

“About what?” Mary interrupts, her brow raised as Anne stutters. Gilbert lifts his hand to her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Now, boy, tell me you have wine for us.” 

 

The mood shifts and eases as they’re plied with food and wine, the conversation turning into a lively one as Gilbert fights against stories of his antics being shared by the couple. Anne learns of his exploits with a bright smile on her lips, her hand in his lap as he holds tightly to her fingers and refuses to let go until dinner is served. 

 

Throughout the night Anne finds herself relaxing into the company, joining the conversation quickly and returning the jabs that they throw at each other in their bantering conversation. When eventually it comes time for the two to leave, it’s with reluctance that they give hugs all around and say their goodbyes. 

 

“Will we see you again, Anne?” Mary asks as Bash and Gilbert collect the coats. 

 

“I hope so. I had a lot of fun tonight, Gilbert is lucky to have you guys,” Anne replies softly, grinning like a fool as she thinks over the past few hours with a fondness. She could get used to nights like these. 

 

“He’s quite taken with you. Between you me, we’ve never actually gotten to meet anyone he was seeing. I was starting to think we’d be kept in the dark until he was already married.” Anne watches as the woman lifts her hand to her jaw, a pensive look coming over her face as she glances down the hall towards Gilbert. “Yes. He’s as happy as I’ve seen him in a long while. Thank you for that.” 

 

“Oh, I didn’t - “ Anne starts and stalls as Gilbert looks over at her, something that Bash has said causing him to smile brightly towards her. 

 

“Alright - it’s time for you to leave, Bash. It was good to see you guys. Text me when you get home so I know you didn’t die on the way, okay?” Gilbert prompts as he helps Mary into her coat before wrapping an arm around Anne’s waist. His fingers flex on her hip and she leans into him, watching as the couple lets themselves out. 

 

“That went better than expected,” Anne says as the door clicks shut, turning to circle her arms around his neck. He leans down and steals a kiss, sighing as she smiles against his lips. 

 

“They loved you, you know. I haven’t seen them have that much fun with someone in years,” he admits. 

 

“Maybe because you never brought them anyone to have fun with?” 

 

“Hmm, fair counter argument but I think it’s more because you’re lovely. Caring,” he pauses and places a kiss on her forehead. “Funny.” His lips move to her temple. “Clever.” Her nose. “Smart, so damn smart.” His words stall as his lips drag from below her ear to her shoulder, his fingers snaking under the edge of her blouse. 

 

“Gil,” she sighs as her body shudders under his attention. He lifts his gaze back to hers, the want clear in his expression. “Can we at least lock the door this time?” 

 

With a chuckle and a click of the lock, Gilbert lifts her off the ground and carries her to his bedroom, his foot kicking the door shut behind them. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a downer but it needed to be done. Maybe it needed to come out as a point of catharsis... IDK. Thank you guys for always taking time to leave a note, I so appreciate it! 
> 
> On a side question: would you guys read a pick your own adventure story?

Back in Charlottetown, Anne sits heavily on the couch in her apartment and looks around the small space with a sigh. It was home, yes, but now it felt almost foreign to her. Her stuff was here, the view was the same, but she didn’t feel like she belonged in these four walls anymore. 

 

Over the past two months something had shifted within her and the things she’d once held closely seemed more flexible than ever. More often than not she had started to toy with the idea of leaving the island, of moving away from the place that for most of her life had defined her. She’d been Anne of the Island for longer than she would admit and now the possibilities that lay before her opened doors - she could be Anne of Anywhere. 

 

All those ideas though shuddered to a stop though as she remembered the book that remained unfinished. After returning from Green Gables she’d made good headway but still there were parts that needed to be written, the first draft only barely on paper at this point. 

 

“You need to get to work,” she mumbles to herself, kicking absently at her bag that still held her clothes from her trip to Montreal. With a sigh and a determined mood she puts her things away and then turns off her wifi and phone, cutting off the outside world as she settles down to work. 

 

* * *

 

She lives in exile for the next month. She doesn’t answer her phone, leaves emails unchecked and spends hours aimlessly walking the city until she’s too tired to focus. The writer’s block sits painfully in the forefront of her mind as she closes off all of the world around her, a new stress building with every day that goes by with unwritten words. 

 

First pages of the draft were due at the end of the week and she didn’t feel confident enough to submit them, a growing concern that her focus was off, that maybe she didn’t have what it took to do justice for the people’s voices that she’d wanted to amplify. Every time she opened the document now she deleted more of her work, cutting and tearing apart the content with spates of angry editing that left her miserable and empty. 

 

Not only was her writing faltering but her sleeping was troubled too. She couldn’t get through the night without waking up in the early hours, her body exhausted as she sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at her wall. The dreams were there then, the accident, the visit to the camp and the tears she’d witnessed every day from the people most in need. 

 

She knew now that the daily stress had gotten to her more than she’d thought. Her coping mechanisms that she had once held in high regard were nowhere to be found and she floundered as she lived in a daze of broken sleep and harsh memories. There seemed to be no way out from the tangled thoughts that plagued her and though she wanted to reach out she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lay herself out and show her weakness. She had to be better than that. 

 

_ Anne - just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to share that we’re really looking forward to whatever you have. We know it will be great! - Amanda _

 

The email blinks in the corner of her screen as she unlocks her wifi app, the mess of communications spilling through like a broken dam. 

 

_ Anne-girl, where are you?? It’s been radio silence for a few days now which doesn’t seem like you. Call me, please? - Gil _

 

_ Marilla asked me to write since you haven’t been picking up your phone. We’re coming in on the weekend and will pop by if you’ll be home. Let us know before Friday morning please, dear. -- Rachel _

 

_ Hey - I’m trying to not pester you ‘cause I know you’re probably in the thick of it. But now I’m irrationally worrying. Prove me wrong? You know how much I love that. Miss you. - Gil _

 

Her gut twists as she reads the messages, recognition that she’d missed Rachel’s deadline making her tap out a dismissive reply -  _ Working intently, sorry, I’ll catch you guys next time _  - before she rubs angrily at her face. 

 

There had to be words that she could put down onto paper. Something that would give her more time to work it all out. Reluctantly, she opened the document again and tabbed to the top, reading through the first couple pages before groaning and sitting back in her chair with a frustrated growl. 

 

“This is impossible,” she hisses, stalking away from her computer to look angrily out her window. The glimmer of the harbour shines in the distance and she sighs, resting her head against the pane. The gentle puffs of her exhaled breath on the glass soothes her for a moment and she closes her eyes, the cool air easing the tension in her body. 

 

Without warning a ringing sound bursts from her computer and she twists and glares at the screen, a whip of rage jolting through her as the video chat calls for her attention. Stomping across her small apartment she hits the answer button and Gilbert’s face appears, his smile broad as she appears in the chat. 

 

“Anne-girl, there you are!” He greets, bright and loud and too much for her to process in the moment. 

 

“What do you want?” She barks, her voice cold. It makes his smile falter, a furrow forming in his brow as he watches her agitated form move around the tight space. 

 

“What’s going on? Hey - Anne, come sit down and talk to me for a minute,” he says lowly, his eyes watching her pace. She shoots him a withering look and covers her face, shaking her head. “Anne.  _ Anne, _ ” he tries to break through to her, his tone shifting and growing more insistent. 

 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She snaps and before he realizes what’s happening she’s ending the call, the screen going dark. In her moment of weakness she lets a groan escape as she moves towards her bedroom, slamming the door shut before she collapses onto her bed and lets the tears quickly overwhelm her. 

 

Throughout the next few hours she ignores the chronic ring from unanswered calls, her hands pulling a pillow over her head as she tries to block out the world. When the sun finally sets she swallows two of her sleeping pills and lets the medication pull her into a chaotic sleep, one riddled with nightmares and garish sights that swirl and bend in her mind. 

 

The knock on her door the next morning is urgent and she rolls from her bed with an exhausted form, the voice on the other side almost frantic. 

 

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert you open this door right now!” Marilla shouts from the hallway, her knuckle wrapping hard against the wood. Anne swears under her breath and tries to tidy herself in the mirror quickly before she slides open the deadbolt. The door swings open before she can even open the lock and Marilla and Rachel tumble into the space, wide-eyed and pale. 

 

“Dear Lord girl, what is going on?” Rachel exclaims angrily, raising her finger towards Anne. “You’ve scared Marilla here half to death! That boy of yours called last night because apparently he was worried about you and now you don’t pick up your phone or answer your door until we’re ready to break the damn thing down?” 

 

Rachel’s voice rises an octave and Anne recoils at her anger, the tears coming to her in a wave of anguish that causes her to shrink in the woman’s presence. Marilla sees the collapse coming, a well-developed keen eye for Anne’s anxious behaviours easing her forward and pulling Anne against her chest in a tight hug. 

 

The two wrap around each other and Anne’s sobs fill the room as Marilla pats the girl’s hair affectionately, her voice calming the warring thoughts spinning in her mind. Eventually Rachel stills her fury and moves to close the door to the apartment, settling herself on a chair to give the women time to calm down. 

 

When finally Anne’s tears have slowed Marilla moves them to the couch where she lets Anne stretch out and rest her head in her lap, her long fingers easing through her mess of hair. “It’s alright Anne. Whatever it is, it’s alright now.” 

 

The words soothe her like they had after Matthew’s death, Marilla’s steadiness like a port in the storm of her emotions. 

 

Time passes and soon day has turned back into night, the light from the window slowly fading as sounds from the kitchen rouse Anne awake. She hadn’t realized that she’d fallen asleep, the first real rest she’d gotten in weeks overcoming her with relief. 

 

“What has you so riled up? Is it Gilbert?” Marilla asks quietly over tea, her gaze steady as Anne slowly shakes her head. She couldn’t put this on him - it wasn’t his doing - he’d been the one to bring the women she so needed, even when she couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

 

“I can’t write. I keep having these dreams from when I was there. I didn’t think I was affected, I thought I was handling it okay. But I can’t get anything done. I haven’t slept in so long Marilla,” she whispers, her gaze focused on the table as shame burns through her. 

 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with something like this Anne,” Marilla replies, watching with a steady gaze. “But every time you figure it out. I know you will this time too. Did you need to come back with us? Take some time away?” 

 

“I need to write,” she whimpers. Marilla only sighs, reaching for the girl’s hand and squeezing it. 

 

“You can write at home, Anne. It might give you - what did you used to say? More scope for the imagination?” They chuckle at that, Anne’s eyes filling with more unshed tears. “Come spend a week with two old birds. We’ll get you back to those words in no time.” 

 

“I think that would be best,” Anne agrees and looks to Rachel, the woman pointedly looking away from her in some semblance of privacy. “I’m sorry I scared you, Rachel. And you too Marilla. I didn’t realize - “ 

 

“You better apologize to that boy of yours tout suite, child. He was quite the picture of concern when he called,” Rachel interjects, her brow raised. 

 

“I know. He caught me at the last straw yesterday. I don’t think he was expecting it when I accepted the call.” 

 

“Yes - well that’s no excuse. Worried sick, I tell you. Probably shed a decade from his life - “

 

“I get it and I’ll call him, I promise.” Rachel sighs, getting to her feet with a nod.

 

“Alright then. We’re going to go do the shopping we came here to do before the stores close and then we’ll be back to collect you. Use your time wisely, I would suggest, so we’re not too delayed getting home.” 

 

Anne nods as Rachel and Marilla get to their feet, disappearing out of the apartment and leaving her to sit staring at her computer screen with her nerves on edge. She could do this. She could. 

 

“Anne?” Gilbert’s face appears in the screen and she exhales a shaky breath, smiling weakly at him as concern etches his features. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her hands coming up to cover her face. 

 

“You don’t need to apologize, ever. I’m just - I’m glad you called. Did Marilla find you?” 

 

“And a very perturbed Rachel. I should probably warn you she can be a bit… Heavy handed in how she deals with people,” Anne laments. Gilbert sighs and she can practically feel his shoulders relax through the screen, the change visibly coming over him.

 

“I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know what else to do when you wouldn’t answer last night. I was really worried, you know,” his voice wobbles and she watches as his hand covers his mouth, rubbing his stubbled jaw. How she longed to be there to feel his scruff herself, knowing that he was close to her. Maybe then she could ease the exhaustion that showed in the bags under his eyes, the mess of curls that looked like he’d run his hands through one time too many.

 

“It’s okay, you shouldn’t apologize for that - it was really my fault. I think I need to talk to someone about what happened out there. I don’t know if I’m handling it the way I should. I haven’t been able to write and I keep dreaming about everything that happened as though it’s happening over and over - it replays every night, Gil,” her voice cracks and his eyes watch her shift, uneasiness apparent even through the screen. 

 

“I wish I could be there for you,” he breathes then, his heart in his throat. 

 

“I wish you were too. But I’m going to go stay with Marilla for a bit, at least until I get my head on straight. So you don’t need to worry about me.” 

 

“I still will. Do you want me to send you the contact information for counselling? Nevermind - I just did - “

 

“How did you do that so quickly?” 

 

“Because I used them last night when you weren’t answering my calls. I wanted to see what services they could offer so I was prepared to refer you or something. I was determined to get you to pick up again but if you didn’t and Marilla wasn’t able to get through to you, Plan C was a wellness check from the cops which is not optimal, I believe, for a variety of reasons. Plan D - which would come into play if Plan C was actioned so maybe it was Plan C.2 - was me getting on a plane to come break down your door. Which I can still do, by the way, but I like your plan of going to the farm more because I think right now your family is what you need. But don’t let it get away from you either... Just - call them, Anne. Talk to them. You can always talk to me but maybe I’m too close to it - to you - and I can’t be the neutral voice you need. I think they could really help you though. I just, if I’m being up front with you, I don’t ever want to worry like that again. You’re too important,” he spills out, his vulnerability making her chest ache. She didn’t know how to process the way his heart seemed to be wrapped into each word. 

 

“I’m sorry you were worried,” she whispers in return, her throat tightening at the emotion that whips through her.

 

“I’m not. I’m not sorry you matter enough to me to make me worry,” he adds, his expression softening. “I  _ am  _ sorry though that I have to go since I’ve got an evening clinic that started - oh about, five minutes ago! Will you call me tomorrow? Please?” She nods and he finally smiles, his fingers pressing to his lips before he touches them to the screen. “I’m glad you’re okay, Anne-girl.” 

 

“Me too, Gil. Have a good shift.” 

 

* * *

 

At first, the farm is almost as isolating as her apartment. She roams the living room at night, restless as she moves from the couch to the window and then back again, over and over until the wee hours of the morning. When Anne does eventually fall asleep she finds herself woken more often than not by Marilla or Rachel at her bedside, concerned faces shaking her back awake. 

 

For the first week she doesn’t call the number Gilbert provided her. It sits burning a hole in her pocket until finally Marilla corners her at lunch, the crumpled piece of paper held in her hand. 

 

“I think you should call them this afternoon, Anne,” Marilla laments, her expression softening as she watches the hurt come over the girl’s face. “What would it hurt to try?” 

 

“I don’t want them to think I’m weak.” The admission bursts from her, tears coming forcefully to her eyes and her frame nearly vibrating with the torrent of emotions. 

 

“My dear girl, they will not think that of you. After all you’ve been through - you are as weak as the old oak tree in the yard!” Laughter bubbles between sobs and Anne groans, taking the number from Marilla’s hand. 

 

“I guess I’ll go try with the oak tree by my side for strength,” she hiccups, her hands brushing against her cheeks. Marilla nods and urges her towards the kitchen door, her hand resting over her heart as Anne settles down beside the ancient trunk. 


	12. Chapter 12

_ I handed in the first draft today. _

 

Anne sets her phone down beside her laptop, her chin in her hand as she looks wistfully out her apartment window. Before her the hills rise and fall, the leaves fluttering in the afternoon breeze. Autumn would be here soon and she longed for the crisp air and the changing colours that the Island hosted as summer turned towards winter. 

 

Her draft was only two weeks late in the end, the time at home helping her re-center herself and find the voice that had been hidden below the stress that had consumed her since her mission. Marilla and Rachel had helped too but there was no doubt now that her words came back to her after the afternoon sitting under that tree with her phone in her hand. 

 

The initial call had been quick - leave a voicemail if it’s not urgent, the voice saying they’ll get in touch within the hour. So she’d waited, her head heavy against the bark as she watched the leaves overhead, the sun breaking through the fading greenery and making memories of the camp come back to her in a fresh wave. When they’d finally called back she’d tried to hold herself together with tape and glue but within five minutes she was falling apart all over again, her words thick with tears. 

 

It had helped. A woman named Tabitha had helped her sort through her thoughts and given her relaxation tips, eventually setting up an appointment for her back in Charlottetown within the week. With daily follow-up calls Anne had found herself decompressing, finally, and the dreams seemed to ease more with every night. 

 

Now she was back in her apartment, equipped with resources and check-ins and all of the tools she needed to get back to work. Though the memories still hurt - more in the waking world than the subconscious - she found the words had finally returned to her. 

 

_ I’m glad. Did you want to talk about the other night now? Or…? _

 

Gilbert’s response was one she expected but still wasn’t prepared for. 

 

The other night. God, she’d been on a tear. Thinking back she knew she shouldn’t have called him - not after her counselling appointment where the subject of their relationship had featured so heavily. But still she had because the theme of the hour had brought up whether they were in the wrong out there, if he’d taken advantage of her and caused her to rush too quickly into whatever it was they were doing. Viciously she’d fought back against the accusation, kindly informing her counsellor that she knew what she was doing and that the woman had no place calling what they had into question. 

 

Gilbert hadn’t seen it that way. Instead of his shackles getting up because of the implication like she’d expected, he’d actually reinforced the question himself before pulling back from her. She’d seen the concern and self-restriction that had come over him, his expression turning neutral before her very eyes. In minutes he was ending the call with the expectation that she ‘think on things for a few days’, his voice barely hiding the hurt she’d come to recognize from their recent conversations.  

 

_ I don’t know if we should talk about it virtually. It’s too easy for us to walk away _ . 

 

Her response is quick and doesn’t bother to shroud the annoyance she had had at his earlier withdrawal, the words pointed and blunt. When he doesn’t respond immediately she groans and gets to her feet, leaving her phone on the couch before heading out into the streets for a walk to clear her head. 

 

The message she finds when she returns an hour later makes her throat dry, her teeth chewing anxiously on her lip as she tries to figure out how to respond. 

 

_ Okay. I’ve booked the 11:40 flight out on Tuesday.  _

 

_ Send me your address when you have a chance? _

 

Anne rubs at her face as she looks at the screen. Tuesday was only two days away. Could she even figure out what she wanted or how they could make this work by then? 

 

_ 500 North River. Are you sure you want to come all this way? _

 

Her stomach pitched as the device vibrated instantly in her hand. 

 

_ Definitely _ .

 

* * *

 

The airport was far less overwhelming this time as she waited at the arrivals gate, her hands stuffed fitfully in her pockets. Leaning against a rounded post, Anne watches the people stream by, occasionally flicking her eyes up to the board to check that his flight was still on time. Though it was by no means a big airport, she still wanted to make sure she was paying attention when he came through in case he missed her in his exit. 

 

She hadn’t told him she was going to meet him here. She hadn’t even really talked to him since he’d sent her his itinerary, their brief messages impersonal and short as they confirmed details.

 

With a hand twisting in her hair, Anne watches as the board updates and reads ‘Landed’, her back straightening as she comes closer to the arrivals area and watches through the sliding doors as people collect their things from the carousel and head towards her. So caught up in looking for him she almost misses as he bolts by her, his attention pointed as he beelines towards the rental desks. 

 

“Gil!” She shouts as he rounds the end of the ramp, his feet slowing his pace as he turns to look at her. His expression breaks into a wide smile and he drops his bag to the ground, stalking forward and pulling her into his arms in a crushing hug. 

 

Her arms wrap around his waist as his palms bracket her face and draw her lips to his, a chaste kiss breaking way to let his forehead rest against hers. For a moment they simply stand there, wrapped in each others embrace as people stream by them. 

 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs when he eventually draws back, his hand lifting to brush her hair from her face. She leans into his touch and rests her hands on his, holding him to her for a second longer. 

 

“I figured maybe we could make a decision here and now - to start fresh or revisit old haunts?” She asks with a wan smile, his skin reddening as he understands the implication of her words. With a bark of laughter and a shake of her head, she steps past him and gathers up his things from the floor, reaching for his hand to lead them out to her car.

 

“I choose to start fresh,” he answers when he’s regained his composure, his feet slowing them until she stops walking and turns to face him. 

 

“I was just kidding - “ 

 

“I’m not. I was thinking about it all and - “ 

 

“Can we talk about this all at home? Anywhere but in this tiny airport where I’m likely to run into these people in the street?” She asks sheepishly, glancing around them. 

 

Gilbert groans and nods, edging closer to her. “Yes - I’m sorry, I’ve just been practicing these lines in my head for the last 3 hours in transit. Obviously we can go back to yours, if you want. Or I booked a hotel, we could go there?” Anne’s gaze snaps up to his at that, her teeth biting her tongue at the suggestion. 

 

“You’re - you don’t - oh, okay,” she whispers, swallowing and taking off at a quickened pace. She’s almost to the doors when she stops and turns to face him abruptly, her throat tight. “Do - I mean, if you want to stay at a hotel did you want to rent yourself a car? I just - I assumed you’d be staying with me. You don’t - you don’t have to though. If you don’t want.” 

 

His eyes soften as he steps closer, his arms coming to wrap around her as she stills in his embrace. “Oh Anne, I want to. Darling, I would very much like to stay with you. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated since I invited myself here. I felt like maybe I should be prepared so you didn’t - “ 

 

“You can be a real fool, Doctor Blythe,” she mumbles into his chest, her fingers tightening in his shirt. “Of course I want you to stay with me.” 

 

“Okay. Then let’s go back to your apartment and I’ll give you my speech and you can harass me about it for as long as you want,” he chides and draws back to let her lead them out into the parking lot. 

 

The drive back to her apartment is tense, the conversation so unlike when she visited him in Montreal that she worries whether this was a good idea at all. Could she even do this? Her heart felt like it was beating too quickly, her stomach uneasy as she pulled into her parking spot and unclipped her seatbelt. 

 

“Home sweet home,” she murmurs as she opens her apartment door, watching with trepidation as he steps over the threshold. His eyes scan the small space, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth before he turns back to face her. 

 

“It’s exactly what I expected,” he says softly, setting his things next to the door. 

 

“I rearranged it just for you.” He snorts at that, rolling his eyes before coming to stand before her. His fingers come to rest on her hips and she leans against him, her ear pressing to his chest. “It feels right strange to have you here. Did it feel like this when I came out to visit you?” 

 

“No,” he pauses, his thumb drawing her chin up so he can meet her gaze. “It did feel right though.” With a sigh, Anne wraps her arms around him and holds tight, a wave of comfort coming over her with his warmth. 

 

They stand there together for a long while, the sounds of the street outside rising up to keep them company as they both curl into the solace of one another. Eventually though Gilbert sets a kiss on her brow and toes off his shoes, leading them to the couch where he sits facing her head on. 

 

“Did you want to start?” Anne whispers, her hands twisting in her lap as she watches him lean his head against his hand on the back of the couch. 

 

“I can, if that’s what you want.” She nods and he watches her shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “You said you wanted to have this conversation in person. So I thought it best I not put it off any longer than we needed to, for both our sakes. I didn’t want to keep avoiding the obvious tension - you don’t deserve that and neither do I.” 

 

“Gil, what are you saying?” She asks hesitantly, fear coursing through her at the way the conversation had evolved so quickly. 

 

“Just - if you didn’t feel the same way anymore, I don’t want you to carry on just to let me down easier later. That’s not fair to either of us.” 

 

“I’m not - no, that’s not what I want at all. Is that what you want?” Her chest hurts and she works to keep her tears at bay. 

 

“Not even a little. I want to know you until my dying days, Anne, let me be very clear about that. But I won’t get in the way of your career, or your health, or put myself in the way of anything that would prevent you from getting anything you want in this world. I want to start fresh with you. To meet you properly, to have dinner with you and talk and do the menial things like pickup groceries and have lazy weekends. I don’t think either of us expected when we met in that airport that things would end up like this and that maybe worked against us. I don’t know,” he stills and rubs his jaw, glancing at her and then looking away with a sigh. “Will you give me a second chance? To try to do this right?” 

 

Anne shifts and swallows thickly, the tears now slipping from the corners of her eyes. “You don’t need a second chance. You haven’t ruined your first, Gil. But I don’t think we need to start fresh. Not fully - “ 

 

“Anne - “ 

 

“No, hear me out. The way we met was unusual, yes, but it didn’t break us from the beginning. We didn’t build this from just the physical side of things. I thought about it a lot these last few weeks and I don’t think it’s our origin story that’s the problem.” She rolls her eyes as he chuckles at that, his head dropping into his hands. “I think we’re just struggling with what’s next. We forged our connection in fire and now that things are back to normal and we’re not facing difficult decisions every waking moment we’re just unsure of ourselves. I don’t think we need to start fresh. I think we need to learn to trust each other to be okay, even if we’re further apart.” 

 

“That’s going to be hard for me,” he whispers, inching himself closer. 

 

“I know. I made that difficult and I admit it. But the only way forward is to trust in one another. I’m doing much better now so if you can believe that, if you can believe that I’ll come to you when things are getting hard again - because inevitably they will - then maybe we have a path forward. If you can’t at least try then maybe we need to go our separate ways.” 

 

“I know I don’t want that. I want to be with you, Anne, I do. I’m just - I think I might be bad at this. I don’t have your way with words and I’m struggling to get what I’m feeling out,” he pauses and groans, moving until he’s sitting with his thigh pressed to her knees. “I’m willing to try anything to keep you, that I am sure of. I’m willing to try. Is that enough?” 

 

Her hands brush the tears from her cheeks, her throat tight as she looks up at him. Grey eyes meet hazel and she nods, her arms reaching for him as he tugs her into his lap. She goes easily, her lips finding his in a searing kiss that breathes life back into her chest. 

 

“I know I’m not easy,” she whispers when eventually she draws back, her head resting against his shoulder. 

 

“Eh, I could argue against that based on an airport experience I once had,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening on her hip until she slaps his hand away. 

 

“That’s not what I meant, Doctor Blythe!” 

 

“I know love, I know,” he adds softly before pressing a kiss to her temple. “You might not be easy but you’re so damn worth it, Anne-girl. I don’t think you realize.” 

 

“You’re just trying to flatter me now,” she hisses, leaning back to catch his eye. 

 

“Is it working?” He counters with a wink, her laughter filling the space. 

 

“You could say so. Are you opposed to finishing this conversation in the bedroom, Doc?” 

 

Before either of them can blink he’s on his feet, her small frame tossed over his shoulder as he carries her into her room and tosses her on the bed. 

 

* * *

 

Six months of travelling between provinces pass before either of them finally get up the courage to settle in one place, Anne’s boxes arriving to Gilbert’s apartment on a sunny fall afternoon. The owner of the boxes arrives later that day in a flurry of excitement, letting herself into the apartment and nearly stumbling in surprise when she sees Gilbert already home and poking through the items. 

 

“What are you doing Gil?” She asks, breathless as he glances up at her. 

 

“I was curious what a girl your size would do with this many boxes but I see from my sneaking around that they’re mostly books. Why am I not surprised?” He adds softly, coming to stand before her with his arms crossed over his chest. “You said you’d give me a warning before you got into the city so I could get dinner on.” 

 

“I didn’t want dinner,  _ yet _ ,” she replies and feels the flush creep up her neck. She was hesitating, unsure of her footing as they entered this new stage. Having never lived with anyone before she was sure she was going to mess it up somehow and the thought made her anxious. Shoving the fear back down she sets her keys on the counter and grins up at him. “Aren’t you going to welcome your new roommate properly?” 

 

“Roommate? Oh Anne-girl, you’re far superior to any roommate I’ve ever had. Come here,” he murmurs and pulls her into his embrace. 

 

Later, as the sun begins to set on the horizon, Anne sits cross-legged in her underwear on her box full of books as Gilbert slowly moves some of the items around the apartment under her guidance. It was a team effort to help her unpack and as she nibbles on her dinner, watching with keen eyes as he lifts and moves things in his boxers, she can’t help the bubble of happiness in her gut. The really, truly happy feeling that sprouts from her toes and spills from her ears. 

 

“I’m not even going to start unpacking these books,” he moans as he opens a third box, glancing over at her with a lopsided grin. She laughs and sets down her plate, sitting up more fully in mock pride. 

 

“It’s taken me years to accumulate my little library, but I understand it seems overwhelming now. To make it easier I’ll go get a bookcase for the spare room tomorrow, if that’s okay? I just couldn’t narrow it down,” she sighs as he places a stack of hardcovers in her lap. 

 

“Of course that’s fine. It’s your space too, love. Besides, we’re going to need ample space for copies of your own book in a few weeks,” he adds, stepping towards her and lifting her chin with his thumb. His lips capture hers and she sighs against him, her hands cupping his elbows. 

 

“I can’t believe it actually got published,” she whispers, setting the books to her side and instead following his movements as he lifts her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his hips and let’s him carry her back to his -  _ their  _ \- room, pleasure sparking in her core. 

 

“Of course it did. You managed to capture what we do and why we do it in such a way that anyone can access it. Plus, the author adds quite a personal touch, it’s impressive really…” He adds, setting her down on the mattress and gazing down at her. Slowly he moves to lay beside her, his expression honest and loving. 

 

“I think you helped with that, Gil. You gave me room to make it my own and even when it was almost too much you were there, helping me work through it. I didn’t do it alone.” 

 

“No, Anne-girl. You did. I only kept you company along the way. And saved you from dying from food poisoning, but I don’t want to think about that now,” he chuckles, leaning over to graze his lips against hers. She sighs and grabs his shoulders, pulling him onto her until they’re flush together, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. 

 

“True. Very true. How can I repay you?” 

 

“Mmm, I can think of some ways,” he says as he slides his hand along her leg, lifting it so he can press more fully against her. She moans at the contact and rolls her hips, her nails biting into his shoulders. 

 

“I have other good news, before you get too distracted,” she says as his nose slides along her collar. He hums in acknowledgement as his fingers slip under the band of her panties, his lips drifting between her breasts. “Muriel talked to the team here at HQ, they want to bring me on full time. Work in their communications department.” 

 

Her words seem to stun him for a moment and he glances up at her, his brows lifted. “Are you going to find other handsome doctors in airports to replace me with? Because I think you’ve invested quite well in this one… He seems to know how to make you - “ he slips a finger into her, his eyes watching as her mouth opens in a small O. “ - make that noise…” 

 

“Gil, don’t - don’t be foolish. Of course -  _ jesus _ ,” she hisses as he nips at her shoulder, his fingers dragging a moan from her lips. “I love you, Gil. Only you. No more airport strangers for me.” 

 

With a groan he drags his hand free and strips their minimal clothing, joining them on a desperate thrust that makes her toes curl. “Anne, there’s no more airport strangers for me either,” he mumbles, his hips rocking into her as she sighs and accepts him fully. 

 

“Good. I’m not good at sharing,” she gasps and clings to his frame as he increases his pace. Matching him as best she can, she gives and receives, the sounds of their coupling filling the room until soft cries tell of their release. Sweat-slicked skin glistens in the evening light as he holds her face in his palms, his lips ghosting over hers as his breathing settles. 

 

“I am proud of you, Anne,” he adds when their breathing returns to normal, his arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “Taking a risk like that. Trusting me. Trusting yourself.” 

 

“All I did was ask if you wanted to get a drink, it’s not that impressive,” she chides and he laughs, his hazel eyes sparkling. 

 

“Obviously not what I meant, but okay,” he counters playfully. She lifts her head and looks down at him, a knowing look crossing her face. 

 

“Choosing to go wasn’t hard. The writing itself wasn’t even that bad, not once I got over that wall. I think the bigger risk was letting you in and letting you see me at my worst. I think I got pretty lucky, considering,” she pauses, brushing her hair out of her face. “Thank you for pushing me. For trusting in this. In us. I needed it to get here.” 

 

“Stop. We gotta stop or we’re both going to get mushy and then I’ll definitely lose my medical cowboy status,” he groans to her light slap. “Fine. I admit it. It was all a ploy. I’ve got a thing for fiery redheads - “ 

 

“Gil!” He laughs much to her consternation, his eyes eventually locking back on hers and a seriousness coming over them. 

 

“You make me happy,” he confesses, his breaths quickening. “Like maybe I’m whole now. Before I was just living day to day but with you here, in my arms, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. Even with all the hard stuff behind us now, it feels right. I love you, Anne-girl.” 

 

“I love you too, you big sappy medical cowboy,” she responds and he pulls her to him, circling his arms around her and never intending to let her go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, that's all my loves! I hope today treats you nicely and if you're not a valentine's person, hopefully your day is otherwise filled with galentine's or just general goodness! Thank you for coming on this journey with me and I would love love love to hear your ending thoughts, favourite moments, anything! My next work is still very much in progress so until then, I'll catch you on the flipside!


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